Supernova
by galsbeingpals
Summary: SwanQueen AU. Celebrated actress Emma Swan and mega star Regina Mills are hired to work on a courageous new blockbuster project, but it turns out the movie isn't the only thing ready to break the mould. Do not read while operating heavy machinery. Or even light machinery.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Inspired by a manip by seli_na_w on twitter - which she has kindly allowed me to use as the cover! NSFW.

SUPERNOVA

Emma Swan flicks through the latest script her agent has given her. Well, thrust into her arms, actually, complete with a pink post-it stuck to the stop which read "Pretty please!". So far as Emma can deduce, Mary has some kind of history with the other lead, a Regina Mills, who has already been hired. Emma's heard of her of course - it's kind of impossible not to know about her, despite her unbelievably scandal-less past. Emma kind of doubts she's even human. Oscar winning, Latina, professional spokesperson for gender and race equality, and breathtakingly gorgeous actress, Regina Mills is a bigger household name than the President.

The black leather couch beckons her and Emma flops down onto it, patting the space beside her for her dog, Ana (a Maltese Shih Tzu Mary gave her four Christmasses ago who she still pretends to feel indifferent about), and opening the screenplay.

It's a typical summer blockbuster. A lot of action - Emma raises her eyebrows at some of the stunts. Regina Mills is gonna do _that_? It reminds her of Mr  & Mrs Smith - fun, witty, wild - except both the leads are women, and it has superheroes. Marie and Maria, socialite frenemies who end up saving the universe. Emma kind of wishes (in a privileged, simplistic way) that she were Latina - like Maria, the part Mills is going to play. Maria's darker, kind of evil at the start, and totally badass. Marie seems more vanilla. She's a bit kooky, the odd one out of the socialites, and kind of a clutz when she isn't fighting alien invaders, but there's something endearing about her and Emma isn't repulsed by the idea of the job.

Halfway through the script, she calls Mary.

"You read it?" her agent squeals, sounding far too excited.

"Calm your tits. I'm halfway through. They really want me for Marie?"

"They were _begging_ me just to get you to read it. You're really considering it, Em? I have to admit I was surprised someone as high profile as Regina Mills was on board but if she can do it, so can you, right?"

Emma's lost, but she feigns understanding. "Right, I mean, I'm definitely thinking about it."

She hears what appears to be a gasp of happiness, then Mary arranges for them to meet in Starbucks the next morning to discuss moving forward with the part.

Emma rings off and snuggles Ana, wondering what Mary had sounded so dramatic about.

"Do we, like, die at the end?" she muses. "But it's for kids."

She reads on, getting more and more gripped by the plot, but also by the dialogue between Maria and Marie. Emma wishes she could talk like this in real life. It's so sparky, so snappy. They hate each other, they're at each other's throats, but they also work together, they understand each other, and they're far more similar than they realise. Emma's rooting for them; she has a great feeling about the movie. And they're the kind of characters that'll be super endearing to kids, and really amusing to adults.

There's something else, too, but Emma tries to push it to the back of her mind. As she reads, she can't help thinking more and more that Maria and Marie are _flirting_. Their banter is effortless and Emma can't help feeling they're kind of perfect for each other. She wonders why they didn't make one of them a guy.

She reads on, not even putting the script down when she pours out Ana's food or lets her outside. She kind of has to pee herself but she holds it, she needs to know what happens, she needs to-

"OH MY GOD!"

She's calling Mary before she even processes it.

"Emma?" she answers groggily.

"Were you sleeping?"

"Yes, but go on."

"Okay… WHAT THE HELL?"

There's a pause, presumably while Mary wakes up enough to process. "You seemed fine with it earlier. Keen, even."

"Yeah, but I hadn't read it all!"

"Oh, come on, Em, it's obvious from the beginning."

"The _subtext_ is obvious. I didn't think for a second that they'd actually go through with it. But THEY FUCKING DO IT. They're in the hangar and everything's going to shit and Marie's beating the shit out of the chopper because it won't start and then Maria grabs her arms and stops her and their faces are inches apart and," Emma finds her place on the page, "THEY REALISE THEY CAN DENY IT NO LONGER, AND THAT IF THE WORLD HAS TO END, AT LEAST THEY'VE FOUND LOVE WHILE TRYING TO SAVE IT. WITH THIS IN MIND, THEY KISS."

"It's _so_ romantic, don't you think?"

Emma's blindsided. Because, yes, actually, she thinks it's romantic as hell. It's the best love story she's read in a long time, maybe _ever_ , but the thing is…

"Will people really go for it?" she asks in a small voice.

"If anyone can sell it, it's you and Regina Mills," Mary says gently. "I know it's a risk, but I think it's time. And I… I thought you would too?"

She sounds so hopeful. And she's right. It's just that… "You know my career isn't me, Mary. I mean, I… I want to do it. I love the story. But…"

"But, what? What are they going to do? I've thought it through, the worst that can happen is the movie is a flop, and even then, it's not like you need the money. Equality organisations from all over are practically throwing money at the project, and these days supporting this kind of thing is very _in_."

"Wait, do you want me to do it because you believe in it, or because it's fashionable?"

Mary replies with a sleepy chuckle. "The former. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but perhaps I shouldn't hold it over you - they're offering a very respectable wage, but Mills is actually doing the movie for free."

" _What_?"

Mary laughs a little more. "Yes, I spoke a little with her agent, Kathryn-"

"I know who Kathryn is. You mean she's stopped hating you for stealing her husband?"

"I didn't steal him!" Mary protested. "And she never hated me. They were estranged. She's moved on. Happily. With a gorgeous athlete named Frederick. But the point is, I met with her, informally of course, and she told me she'd never been more shocked. Mills never does anything surprising, she verges on boring, but Kathryn offered her the script, she took it away and read it, and came back and said she didn't want to donate money because she didn't like producing her own work, but that she would act the part of Maria as long as they agreed not to pay her a cent."

"That's… awesome," Emma decides. The trouble is, she really doesn't know if she has it in her to be so courageous. "Hey, Mary?"

"Yes?"

"Is Mills a lesbian?"

The line goes dead. Emma laughs. She reads the end of the script (the kiss somehow jumpstarts the chopper and the world is miraculously saved) then googles "Regina Mills lesbian". She finds some very interesting manips, but Mills' private life remains just that, and in interviews, she never contradicts their implications that she's heterosexual.

Emma rolls her eyes. Why should Mills be gay just because she supports the movie? Emma supports the movie, and she's not gay. Yeah, yeah, there was that girl in the last group home but that was years ago and she'd been barely more than a kid. But Mary, Mary's as white and cis and het as a woman can be - she's just also a committed ally. That's got to be Regina, too. Well, not the white part.

Why is this even so important? Emma groans, throwing off her clothes and climbing into bed. Regina Mills' sexuality is completely irrelevant. It's _acting_. Emma's kissed tons of straight guys that she wasn't into, but in the scene, in the moment, it wasn't really them. For Emma at least, when she's acting she _is_ the character, she feels her, she lives her, and she does what she wants to do. It's obvious to Emma that Marie wants Maria, she knows she can act it, and for fuck's sake, it's Regina Mills, the epitome of professionalism!

It's only a few hours later when her phone blares out angry chick rock and she drags herself out of bed to go meet Mary. She finds a hat and huge sunglasses, slips into a white sundress that makes her look put together even though it's pretty much her fastest outfit, slides her feet into her trusty cowboy boots, and throws a few essentials into the purse that matches them. Paparazzi ready. She rolls her eyes behind the glasses. Why are they so desperate for a few blurry snaps of her grabbing a coffee?

She's an old hand at it now, though. At twenty-eight, she's had almost ten years of recognition, and at least five of A-list fame. She's not quite sure what people see in her. Maybe it's the romantically troubled back story. Maybe it's the Disney Princess blonde curls. Maybe she's actually good at what she does. Well, whatever. She kisses Ana goodbye, promising not to be long (is she a parent or what?) and goes out to her car - a bright yellow Ferrari, entirely impractical, but so much fun. Crazy cars have kind of been her weakness ever since her first movie payday.

She lives in a gated community so she rarely has to worry about fans or paps right by her house, but arriving at the coffee shop is a different story. While austentatious cars aren't exactly rare in Beverly Hills, most of them aren't yellow, and most of them (still) are driven by men. As soon as Emma gets out, passers by stop and stare at her, whipping out their camera phones, tweeting pictures. There'll be a crowd outside Starbucks before she's even ordered.

Mary's already there, accompanied by August, Emma's head of security.

"You called for backup? It's coffee, Mary," Emma protests.

"You're not careful enough, Emma! You're one woman. I know you think you're tough, but you could get trampled."

"I'm not even that famous."

"You passed famous years ago. Come on, let's go inside. I spoke to the manager, they're going to put someone on the door."

"Mary, it's _coffee_. Relax."

"I wish you'd just let me come to your house," Mary sighed.

"I'd go crazy! You know I don't like to be cooped up. Plus, the more I act like a normal person, the more they'll treat me like one."

"You're over simplifying."

"And you're over stressing."

Emma goes up to the counter and places their coffee order to a starstruck cashier. Emma winks at her, leans in for a selfie, and tells her she's going to have an awesome future. The girl (who's maybe seventeen) is staring at her with adoring envy, and Emma wonders if the kid will ever understand that Emma envies her, too. She's got her whole life ahead of her, she's in school, she's clean, she has good clothes, she's going to have a great life. And she's not going to have to sell her soul to do it.

It's not that Emma's sold her soul, exactly. It's more like she's donated it, shared it maybe. And she wants to. This life, this dream people think she's living, it's worthless unless she uses it to make others happy. She's never going to cut herself off from humanity. She could never be like… Well, she could never be like Regina Mills. It's not that she doesn't respect actors like that, she just can't forget her roots, and never wants to pretend to be something that she's not.

"I'm no different than you," she promises the girl as she collects the order.

The girl laughs as if she's made a ridiculous joke. Emma hides her sigh and takes the coffees over to Mary. Mary's is some icy, creamy concoction. Emma's is plain, hot, and black.

"So. S.O.S.," Mary says as she sits. That's the name of the movie.

"I'm in," Emma says decisively. "And hell, if Mills is doing it for free, so will I. But on one condition?"

"I'm listening."

"You keep it a secret. Even from set. I don't want this to turn into some stunt."

"But Emma, it's such a wonderful opportunity-"

"No. Agree to this, or I won't do it."

"Of course, Em, I just… Can I tell Kathryn?"

"No! I still can't believe you guys are kind of friends now."

"It's not that strange. But why can't I tell her?"

"Because she'll tell Mills."

"Would that be so bad? Why shouldn't you and Mills be on equal footing?"

Emma frowns. "I just… This is her thing. She had it first, she's doing the whole unpaid thing-"

"Actually, she's not making it public that she's not being paid, either."

"Well, still. I… I don't know, I just don't want people to know, okay? I feel like it'd imply that I'm better than them, that I'm trying to give them charity."

Mary sighs. "Fine. No publicity. No money. But you'll do it?"

Emma grins. "When do they want to start filming?"

"They have to hire all the other parts, but that shouldn't take long now you're involved. In a month, I'd imagine."

"So I'm free until then?"

"Well…"

"Spit it out."

"They'll probably want you and Mills to read with some of the kids."

There are a few scenes involving a rebellious child, who, fascinatingly, has no assigned gender in the script. Ze is called Sammy, but auditions are completely open. Ze has to be about ten, and that's it.

"Fair enough," Emma says, sipping her coffee. "Sort out the details, let me know when the contract meeting is, tell me where to be when."

"Wonderful. I'm so glad you're doing this, Emma. It's going to be a great success, I can feel it."

"Sure you can," Emma teases. She gets through the last of her coffee, gulping it down now it's a drinkable temperature. "I gotta go, I left Ana by herself."

Mary smirks. "I knew you cared about her."

"Not wanting to kill something and actually liking it are two different things."

"Whatever you say. I'll call you on Friday?"

Emma nods, then rises to leave, secretly grateful she has August to take her to her car, though she smiles brightly and signs several autographs on the way.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Emma's late and she knows it. Great example for the kids. She accelerates, zooming into the studio parking lot, then screeches to a halt, jumping out of her car even before it stops. She's a total mess, wearing the same jeans and tank top as yesterday. She hasn't washed her hair, she has no socks on under her boots, and her ratty red leather jacket just makes matters worse. She's exhausted, kind of hungover, and she's tempted just to leave her shades on. It's November, but in LA you can pretty much wear shades all the time.

She charges through the doors, ignoring her uncomfortable feet, and scans the hallway for directions. She doesn't really need them - it's full of wannabe rebels and their carers, all lined up to point her to the audition room. She races past them, fast enough and scruffy enough to avoid any oohing and aahing, and slams into the room, panting.

She sees Mills first. Everybody sees Mills first. The 32 year old superstar is perched elegantly on her folding chair, her short dark hair perfectly clean and styled, her lips accented with deep red lipstick, her eyes bright and alert, and her heavenly body sheathed in a form fitting grey dress. She's stunning and amazing and everything Emma isn't (even on good mornings) and Emma feels colour rising to her cheeks as she wishes she could just turn around and leave.

Mills stands, flashes a megawatt smile that's definitely fake, and holds out a hand complete with perfectly manicured fingernails. Emma wonders if there's an inch of this woman that isn't polished. She suspects not, and forcibly steers her mind away from imagining every flawless part of her. She yanks her sunglasses of her face and attempts a friendly smile that ends up being more of an awkward grimace.

"Miss Swan. I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure, though I have read about you, of course."

Was it just Emma, or did she make that sound almost threatening? _Seductively_ threatening. Oh yes, I know _all_ about you, Miss Swan. Emma shudders, wipes a clammy palm on her jeans, then shakes the proffered hand.

"Pleasure's all mine, Regina." Emma's tempted to call her Your Majesty. She's just so fucking regal, Emma's kind of surprised the whole room isn't throwing themselves at her feet. But maybe they did that earlier. You know, when they actually arrived on time.

"You are too kind. Shall we?"

Regina motions to their seats and Emma follows, trying desperately not to stumble. Her feet are slipping in her shoes. Why did she not put socks on? They talk through the scene, discussing the kinds of things they're looking for. Emma manages to express her ideas reasonably well, and her stomach actually flutters when Regina smiles and nods at something she says. Emma realises too late, though, that she has nothing to make notes on except the back of her script, and nothing at all to write with. She blushes again. She's supposed to be a professional, but she's actually never been so involved in auditioning people before.

Regina taps her knee. Emma's eyes snap up from the piece of floor she's been studying; she waits for a snarky comment but instead Regina just gives her a slight eye roll, then passes her a pen.

"Maria starts out hating you, but I don't have to," the older woman says. Emma laughs nervously.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I just," she looks around, making sure the writer, director, and two producers are otherwise occupied. "I wanted to make a good impression and I didn't even bring a pen."

"Good night last night, then?"

Emma laughs again. "You could say that. So, hey, any tips for this whole auditioning thing?"

Regina pauses, thinking of how best to explain. "Well, you see yourself in the part of Marie, do you not?"

Emma nods.

"Alright, so when reading the scene with each child, look out for those who feel like Sammy to her."

"But what if the kid that feels right does something wrong, or isn't who the writer intended?"

"That is why there are six of us auditioning them, and not just you. There will be many suitable candidates. All the children here today have already auditioned; this is both their screen test, and the test to see if they will suit the way we perform the characters."

Emma looks over at the camera; she'd hardly noticed it when she came in. She's not particularly bothered, though she kind of wishes she'd had time to cover up the bags under her eyes.

Everybody seems ready, so the director sends her lacky out to fetch the first kid. The director, Callie, is just as awesome as when Emma met her a week ago. She grins at the first kid, asks a couple questions to put them at ease, then everybody settles to do the scene.

Five kids later, Emma's kind of panicking because she loves them all. They're freakishly talented; even the bratty ones are amazing when they're acting. She hasn't met a single kid that wouldn't fit the part of Sammy, and yet they all bring something different to the role.

After ten kids, they take a break. They discuss a little, while it's fresh in their minds, but Emma keeps her comments to a minimum. She glances at Regina, but the brunette is deep in conversation with the writer and Emma doesn't get a chance to sneak any questions or beg for advice.

The break is over and Emma sips the coffee she's been given and scans the next candidate. He's a dark haired nine year old who introduces himself as Henry Gilmore and, unlike the earlier children, doesn't have a parent or carer with him. And he's awesome. Emma's not a great note-taker, but even before the scene, she's just scribbled THIS ONE.

He aces it. He shares secret smirks with Regina, he turns what everyone else had treated as a nothing line into a joke to tease Marie, and he just fits with them. Emma knows it's the best she's done the scene, and she thinks he even improved Regina's impeccable performance. He leaves the room and Emma turns to the others.

"I know I'm not that experienced at this, but it's him, right?"

To her relief, everybody smiles and nods.

"He's our Sammy," Regina says, smiling. Emma wonders why she's so surprised that Regina's so great with kids.

They go through the rest (thirty kids altogether) but no one comes close to Henry. Emma wants to buy them all ice cream (she and Regina do take a selfie with every single one) and then they call Henry back in.

"So, Henry," Callie says. "Where's the adult you brought with you?"

Henry looks a little shifty. Emma sees a lot of herself in his eyes.

"I, uh, my mom had to leave."

Callie seems to be gritting her teeth. She mutters something to her assistant, who hurries off. Henry slumps in the chair they offer him, but turns down food and drink. Emma scoots her chair closer to his and tries to catch his eye.

"Cheer up, kid. You got the part!"

Henry sighs, and he sounds a hell of a lot more than nine.

The assistant returns with the sign in sheet and Henry's guardian's consent forms. Callie checks them, then sets them down and looks at Henry.

"Your parents don't know you're here."

Henry picks at some imaginary lint on his worn-out jeans. Callie takes a breath.

"Well look, Henry. You're brilliant. We want you for this part. So why don't you give us their number? I'm sure if I call them and talk to them, they'll let you do it."

Henry shakes his head. Regina narrows her eyes. Emma makes connections she wishes she couldn't see.

Callie sighs. "It's either your parents or the cops, kid."

Henry shrugs. Regina gets a nod from Callie, then gestures for Emma.

"Come on," Regina says to the boy. "We can call the cops in a half hour. Right now, I'm hungry, and I can hear Emma's stomach growling from here. Let's go get something to eat. If you can't be our Sammy, the least I can do is buy you a burger and fries."

Henry feigns indifference, but his eyes light up at the mention of junk food, and he seems pretty keen to leave the authority figures. Emma gets up, trying to figure out how to share her theory with Regina without letting the kid know she knows. If he's anything like her (and he seems a lot like her) he'll split if he realises she's onto him.

There's a decent diner on the studio lot and they order three large cheeseburger meals, as well as a giant chocolate milkshake for Emma, which grants her a raised eyebrow from her co-star, but a smirk from the kid.

"How do you stay so skinny?" he asks her as they sit down to wait for their food.

Emma shrugs. "I've always been skinny. I go running sometimes, and I do this awesome boxing work out, but when I was a kid, my- people used to say I had hollow legs. How about you, Regina?" she asks, mimicking a plastic faced interviewer. "What's your secret to staying in shape?"

"I burn calories with pure hatred," Regina answers smoothly. Henry cackles.

"You really are evil," he tells her. She grins wickedly.

"But of course.

"Then… why are you buying me lunch?"

"Self interest. I want you for this part. You're by far the best actor we've seen, and by some miracle, you do not annoy me."

Henry frowns. "They'll never let me do it."

Emma bites her lip. "Kid, did you ever google me?"

There's a pause, then Henry nods.

"So you know how I grew up?"

Another nod.

"And you get that I want to help you? And that I _really_ want to help you get this part?"

Henry bites his lip. Emma glances at Regina, who isn't quite keeping up, but Emma can see her mind working away.

"Kid, whatever happens, they're gonna get you eventually. Someone'll call the cops, even if we don't, and they'll figure out who you are and send you back. You're smart, you know I'm right. It sucks, but it might suck a hell of a lot less if you get to do this job."

Henry nods slowly.

"Group home or foster parents?"

"Group home," Henry mutters.

Emma wants to wrap him up in her arms and never let him go. "That actually might be better, kid. They're not in it for the money, they work for the state, and they'll probably listen to Callie. She's incredibly persuasive."

"She seems cool," Henry assents.

"Is it near the studio?"

"Hour on the bus."

Emma nods. "Could be worse. You skip school today?"

Stupid question. Of course he did.

"I'm failing everything. They'll never let me miss months of it."

Emma grins. "Oh, we can totally use this to our advantage. You'll have to have a tutor on set anyway, it'll all be paid for, and you'll probably do way better with one to one tuition."

Regina, who's been uncomfortably silent, finds a smile just as their food arrives.

"I do not have the knowledge of your situation that Emma has, Henry, but I give you my word I will help you in any way I can. Though I often consider it misplaced, I have a certain degree of influence which I would be more than happy to exercise to help your cause."

Henry takes a giant bite of burger. "Okay. I'll give you the number," he says with his mouth full. "But can I eat, first?"

They take Henry exploring when they're done with the food, finding an unused set with a comfortable couch and some comic books. Henry gives them the number and Emma calls Callie, telling her everything, while Regina learns about Batman.

The director of Henry's group home shows up an hour later. Emma hates her immediately, but Callie and Regina schmooze away and she grudgingly signs Henry's forms. She protests that she can't possibly drive him to set for filming, but Regina chimes in that she will be more than happy to do all the ferrying, and after taking all her details to complete the appropriate vetting procedures, the home director doesn't really have a leg to stand on. At this point she also seems to realise that she'll have one less kid to worry about for most of the time, so while she still seems pretty mad, Henry doesn't seem to be in massive trouble.

It takes hours to sort everything out, but they finally finish, Henry fist bumps Emma and shakes Regina's hand, and disappears with his carer. Emma watches him go with a heavy heart.

"I wish I could just get him out of there," she murmurs. She thinks it's to herself, but Regina's heard her.

"We are doing all we can," Regina says a little stiffly, but Emma recognises it as a cover.

"Wanna get a drink?" she offers.

Regina gives her a death glare, but her expression softens when she sees Emma's tired, emotionally drained face.

"I cannot go to a bar," Regina points out. "But… I suppose a drink would be pleasant, and I am not opposed to company. You can follow me to my place, if you like."

"I, uh…" Emma trails off. She's drained and tired and desperate for comfort, and while a bar is fine for that, going to Regina's house, just the two of them… Screw it. "I'd love to."

"Wonderful. We should check in with Callie, but then we can get going."

BREAK

Regina's father made the cider. She tells Emma this as they enter her giant white mansion. Emma slides off her boots and tries not to be mortified by her sweaty feet. Regina chuckles at them. Emma groans.

"I was in a hurry, okay?"

"Perhaps you shouldn't be drinking tonight," Regina teases, pouring two tumblers of cider. Emma grabs hers and downs it in one.

"Bullshit," she says. "By the way, this is fucking amazing."

"Thank you. I'm sure my father would appreciate the compliment."

Regina pours Emma another glass and Emma slows down a little, but not much. She needs to get rid of this emptiness. She texts Mary, who's minding Ana, to say keep her overnight, and wonders what the hell she's doing. Regina settles on her deliciously comfortable couch, crosses her legs, and gives Emma a very obvious once-over.

"You are an impressive woman, Emma Swan," she decides. Emma mock bows before sitting on the couch opposite.

"I mean it," Regina says with a small smile. "You have achieved so much, and your passion is enchanting."

"Whatever," Emma replies. "I mean, I've been lucky as hell. And as for today, I just wanted to help the kid. So did you."

Regina nods, then smiles again. "Well, I am an impressive woman, too."

Emma finishes her second drink. "That you are."

Regina rises to collect the decanter, then returns to sit on Emma's couch instead of her own, refilling both their glasses.

"I am truly sorry you have had to face such darkness," she says sincerely. Emma really isn't one for pity, but that's not what Regina's giving her. Her tone is laced with respect, admiration even. "And I am very glad that you will be working with me on this project."

They're so close, and the cider's damn good... Emma feels delicious. Regina smells like sin. Emma feels her fingers tingle; her mind is becoming comfortably fuzzy and she knows exactly how to fill the aching emptiness inside. They drink in silence for several minutes, then set down their empty glasses on the coffee table. Emma leans into the couch, indulging in exquisite fantasies about the woman beside her. Regina still sits with her back ramrod straight, her shoulders tight, her face unreadable.

Emma watches her, the way her hair caresses the back of her neck, the way she flexes her fingers, long and slow, in place of the way normal humans would fidget. Those shoulders, stressed and tired, in that beautifully shaped grey dress…

Emma sits up, running her hands over them. Regina gasps.

"What are you doing?"

"Relaxing you," Emma mutters, working the shoulders with her hands, massaging Regina's back and neck. They both know where this is going, she can feel Regina's quickening pulse, the way she leans into Emma's touch, the way she moans rather louder than necessary when Emma releases a knot of muscle.

It only takes a minute or two before Regina turns. She looks into Emma's troubled green eyes, looks at the woman who bared her soul today to help a child, and wants nothing more than to fuck away her pain in the way the blonde so clearly desires.

Emma's breathing heavily and Regina knows she knows what's coming. The brunette brushes her thumb over Emma's cheekbone, then leans in, slowly, obviously, before pressing their lips together and expressing her own frantic need.

They kiss like teenagers, in hazy, fumbling desperation, a tangle of teeth and tongues and wayward limbs as they fall back onto the couch and devour each other. Emma marvels at how easy it is to lose herself in Regina, her brain overcome with lust and pleasure as the brunette kisses away her pain.

Regina is equally entranced, though unlike Emma, the pain she battles has never been shared. For once, though, she does not protect herself. She kisses with passion, along Emma's jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone. She is thin, and it arches like wings, framing her torso, leading to the straps of her tank top that Regina tugs out of the way.

Emma pushes back, too alive with feeling to simply lie back and be ravished. She pulls at the zipper of Regina's dress and Regina raises her arms, allowing it to be removed. Emma smiles gleefully at the sight of Regina in only her underwear. Regina rolls her eyes.

"Don't pretend you haven't seen it before," she says.

"Yeah, but it's so much better in person," Emma breathes. "And in the movie, I couldn't do this…" She runs her fingers over Regina's toned stomach, then up and over her breasts; she cups them through their black lace confines, then reaches around to free them.

"You're so beautiful," Emma says, leaning in for another kiss. Regina hums needily as Emma's hands rediscover her chest, this time entirely unrestricted. Emma rolls a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching harder as Regina mewls. Their kisses deepen, Emma's shirt disappears, and somehow they find their way to the stairs, stumbling and grabbing and shedding clothes all the way to Regina's bedroom.

Regina pushes Emma, who is still in her (unfastened) jeans, onto the bed, grabs the ankles of the too-tight pants, and tugs. Emma giggles as her legs are finally freed; Regina slides out of her panties and saunters towards the bed, straddling her guest, relishing the feel of strong hands and short fingernails setting her nerves alight. She feels them moving to an ideal destination and arches her back, thrusting involuntarily, as a wandering finger finally finds her clit.

Not one to be (overly) selfish, she slips her own hand beneath Emma's boyshorts, smirking at the copious wetness she finds there. They rock together, finding the perfect angle to slide into each other. Emma groans as Regina enters her, two confident fingers curling to hit the perfect spot as they continue to share bumpy kisses. Emma is equally on target and Regina curses (which Emma finds fucking awesome) and pants and makes vicious commands (don't you ever fucking stop) and there's all kinds of friction and their breasts are rubbing together and Emma's so fucking close but she wants it to be together and then suddenly they're crashing, exploding around each other, and Regina thinks she might have blacked out because when she's able to register reality again she's collapsed on the bed and Emma's leaning over her, grinning from ear to ear.

"So you liked that, huh?"

Regina attempts an eye roll, but there are tears in her eyes and she can't hide her smile.

"It's been a while," she admits.

Emma kisses her - on the nose. She giggles. She didn't even know she knew how to giggle any more. Emma giggles too, then kisses her, properly this time, and she's _so_ sensitive and aching in all the best ways but she can already feel the pressure building again and actually she's kind of proud because yeah, maybe she passed out, but she has marathon-level stamina.

Emma's grinning even more. Regina's glad. There's something in those eyes… This woman deserves all kinds of flattery. Regina flexes her sticky fingers, knowing exactly how she wants to flatter her next.

BREAK

Emma hums in her head. Maybe it'd be kind of nice to be a superhero. Or villain. _With my freeze ray I will stop the world_. She's never been a good sleeper, she wakes up every couple hours. It's 5am, she's in the most comfortable bed she's ever lain in (or gotten laid in), and Regina's sleeping like an angel, and Emma's… leaving.

She creeps around in the darkness, wriggling into her jeans, going through the motions that she's all too used to. She finds her clothes, but something holds her in the doorway. She wishes for about the millionth time that she could just be a normal person, that she could stay, that she could make Regina pancakes, borrow her shirt, flirt with her all morning, kiss her over coffee, take her back to bed and fall in love all over again with those beautiful chocolate eyes…

Emma leaves the mansion. Her car waits for her, loud and bright and real, and she gets into it, starts the engine, and roars out into the dawn.

BREAK

Regina rolls over in her empty bed and wishes she could be surprised. She's not worried. She likes Emma, she knows they can both be professional about it… But the thing is. She likes Emma. Really likes her. And not just because of the orgasms. She stretches in bed, purring like a cat. Okay, so maybe the orgasms play a pretty important part.

She gets up, rolling her shoulders (they feel great) and lazily making the bed. As she shakes out the comforter, something red falls to the floor. She investigates. Emma's boyshorts. She quirks an eyebrow. Intentional? Probably not. Further examination reveals a large Wonder Woman "W" on the front. Classy. Regina chuckles, throwing them in the laundry. She turns on the radio, something perky, and heads for the shower.

Perhaps she should be worried. Her agent would tell her to be worried. But she has a feeling Emma has even less interest in being a tabloid scandal (or love affair) than she does, so she doesn't think it's going to be an issue. It was something they needed, something they both wanted, and when they start working together properly in the New Year, they'll just have to be adults about it.

After luxuriating under the warm water for far too long, she makes some coffee and turns her attention to Henry. She calls her lawyer, thinking about visitation, and is pleased to know that once she's been vetted, she can see him when she wants, as long as she clears it with his group home. She has a feeling they won't mind… And then she starts wondering about Christmas, about the vacation, about what he'll be doing. And before she can stop herself, she's back on the phone to her lawyer.

He tosses around phrases like "highly irregular" and "are you sure you want to do this, Ms. Mills?" but she can be pretty damn insistent when she wants to be and after several more calls (to her agent, Callie, and a friend with a connection in the care department) she's printing out the forms from her email and registering to become a temporary foster parent. Just in case, she tells herself. Just in case. And just while they make the movie.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Clearly, being late is going to be Emma's theme for the entire movie. At least she has socks this time. She does not, however, have her lucky underwear. She's lost it, and while Ana got her a new pair for Christmas (yeah, okay, she got it herself, wrapped it herself, and got Ana to put a paw print on the card) it's not the same.

She's far too frazzled to even care about Regina, who is probably going to kill her, so that's a plus, at least. And she knows the lines. And she's found her parking space. She stops in it, rolls her eyes at Regina's stereotypical black SUV, and legs it to the read through.

Yup, she's the last one there, but at least it makes Henry laugh. He's sitting by Regina and they're thick as thieves. Emma wonders when that happened. Regina hardly looks at her, but she says hello and Emma takes her seat and Callie greets everyone and suggests they get to it.

Emma loves the cast. They all fit the parts, they can have a laugh, they pass her coffee, and they're nice to Henry. Especially Regina. Dammit. Because Emma just can't stop looking at her, at everything she does, every tiny movement down to the way she breathes or unscrews her water bottle. Emma can remember it vividly, the feel of those strong, skilful fingers buried inside her-

"Emma? Are you okay?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, just lost the thread for a second, sorry," Emma apologises, finding her place in the script and fumbling her way through her line. She might be wrong but she's pretty sure Regina stifles a chuckle.

Oh, you know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you? Emma sighs. They can't. They're working together. On a really important movie. And they hardly know each other. Okay, yeah, they know each other extremely well in some ways. But what if it doesn't work? They _can't_. They could screw up the whole movie if they did, and that would be wrong in so many ways. So, friends. Just friends.

Callie calls a break and Henry bounces over to her. He looks so good, like, happy down to his bones, and Emma knows it's more than the movie. He's bursting to tell her, but he waits for Regina to appear behind him.

"So, Emma, guess what?" he says, grinning.

Regina hovers behind him. He looks up at her and she has to share his contagious smile.

"I'm living with Regina!" Henry blurts out.

"What? You are?" Emma stares at Regina, and Henry hops up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah, she made a bunch of calls because she didn't know what'd happen to me over the holidays and now she's my temporary foster carer, for the _whole time_ we're filming. Isn't that awesome?"

Emma struggles with a whole bunch of feelings that threaten to make her sob like a baby, but she pulls out her widest, most genuine smile.

"Yeah, kid. That is really freaking awesome."

She finally summons up the courage to meet Regina's eyes and what she sees there is… Everything. Bravery. Love. And pure fucking terror. Because this is a woman who has been alone her whole life, and now suddenly she's a mom to a noisy, troubled nine year old, and she wants to make him happy with all her heart but other than that she doesn't have a clue. Oh yeah, and she's facing the most beautiful woman she's ever seen, a woman whose tongue her most private area is currently remembering very vividly.

Henry dashes off to meet some friends and Emma and Regina are left staring at each other.

"So, uh, it's nice to see you," Emma says awkwardly. "Look, about, uh, well, yeah, I'm sorry I just-"

"Don't worry about it, Emma. I would have done the same thing."

"You would have?"

Regina smiles. "Absolutely. So no hard feeling?"

Emma feels a weight lift off her chest. "No hard feelings."

Regina winks. Emma's knees go weak.

"Actually, Emma, I was wondering-"

"Regina, do you want to have-"

They speak simultaneously. Regina clamps her mouth shut. Was Emma just asking her out?

"You go," Emma says.

Regina takes a breath. "I think you were going to ask something more fun."

Emma blushes. "How would you have answered?"

"I would have said no," Regina says with a smirk.

 _Impossible woman_ , Emma thinks.

"What were you going to say?" she asks Regina.

"I want to ask you some things about looking after Henry," Regina says, seeming rather uncomfortable at having to admit difficulty. "We are doing very well so far, but we've been on holiday, and there are a lot of things, I mean, I've been reading up about it, but I thought it might be better to talk with you, since you understand him so well."

Emma reaches out and touches Regina's upper arm. "Of course. Whatever you need."

Regina smiles widely. "Thank you. We should head back."

They finish the read through and go for lunch. Emma eats with Callie, not wanting to force herself on Regina, then goes over to her wardrobe fitting. To her surprise, there's someone else changing. Someone whose underwear clad body features in her imagination embarrassingly often. And someone whose underwear is-

"Those panties are not yours!" Emma exclaims.

Regina laughs loudly and turns around, showing off her coordinated red bra.

"Would you like me to give them back?" Regina suggests, walking over and flicking the lock on the door.

Shit. Emma closes her eyes. She is a bad, bad person. And fuck, kissing Regina just feels like home. She's so dominant today; Emma gasps as the older woman pins her agains the wall, kissing like a fucking sex demon. She groans; Regina unfastens her pants and slips a hand below her waistband.

"Shit, you're not wasting time, are you?" Emma moans.

"I take pride in my efficiency," Regina purrs between kisses. She coils Emma tighter and tighter with expert thrusts and strokes and compliments on her wetness until she's balancing on a knife edge and then-

She stops. She stops, withdraws her hand, licks her fingers, and winks. Emma whines. Regina helps her into a chair, pats her knee, and leaves the room.

"What the fuck?" Emma moans. She's _dying_. She's about to finish things herself when Ruby, costume designer exraordinaire, trips into the room.

"Hey, Emma. Geez, what happened to you?"

Emma forces herself to her feet. "Hey, Rubes. Nothing, just tired. So, what have you got for me?"

She strips to her underwear, hopes her underwear isn't obviously ruined, and pays absolutely no attention to the violent throbbing between her thighs. Devil woman.

An hour later she's lying in her trailer, hands locked together above her head, because she just has a _feeling_. Sure enough, there's a knock at the door. She peers through the window. Yup. It's her. Satan in human form. She opens the door.

"I hate you."

"You didn't handle it yourself?" Regina seems gleefully surprised.

"Nope," Emma says. "Doesn't even bother me."

Regina smirks. "Well, I mean, I don't have to stay-"

Emma yanks her inside, slams the door shut, and kisses her as invitingly as she can possibly manage. Regina murmurs in appreciation, but pulls back.

"You left," she points out. "And now we're colleagues."

Emma nods. "I did the first because of the second."

"So earlier, when you were looking at me like you wanted me to slowly eat you alive, that was..?"

"Foolish honesty?"

Regina laughs. "I like you, Emma Swan. I like you a lot."

"But?"

"We can't mess up the movie. And we have Henry to think about, too."

"Got it. I think it's amazing, what you're doing for him, by the way."

Regina smiles. "Thanks… I just, I didn't have a choice, not once I started thinking about it."

Emma nods. She understands. Regina's not hardened like she is.

"So, this is like, a one more time thing?" Emma asks.

Regina pauses. "Perhaps. Or, alternatively, a very secret, careful, private, screw anyone else and I'll kill you, numerous times thing?"

Emma's mouth is on hers before she can say "friends with a lot of fucking benefits".

BREAK

Notes: In case there's any uncertainty, Henry isn't biologically related to Emma or Regina. The song Emma hums is "Freeze Ray" from Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog.


	2. Chapter 2

It's even better than Regina remembers, and she remembers it being pretty damn awesome. She's pretty sure Emma's been working out, because the blonde has even more stamina than last time (as well as even more defined abs. And _biceps_. God, those biceps…). The couch in Emma's trailer has room for improvement, though this doesn't stop them from staying on it (mostly - they also utilise the counter, the floor, and the wall) for several hours. Henry's off with his tutor and they're done for the day, so when Regina finally admits if she has another orgasm she might actually die of bliss, they still have time to lie around on the (substandard) couch and discuss very important matters.

"What's your favourite ice cream?"

Regina rolls her eyes. Emma thinks they should keep score, see who does it more often. "I do not _do_ ice cream." Regina lifts the blanket, examining Emma's toned stomach. "Do you really eat ice cream?"

"You've seen me! Okay, that was milkshake, but that's basically just melted ice cream. You could eat ice cream. Most people are _way_ too paranoid - a little junk food won't hurt you, not when you're busy and active and healthy as hell the rest of the time."

"Do you mean to tell me you are normally healthy?"

Emma laughs. "Nope. But I'm a freak." She runs her fingers through Regina's adorably tousled hair. "So, Henry, huh?"

"It made sense," Regina says stiffly. "It's very practical."

"Gotcha. Nothing to do with liking the kid at all. Or having a heart."

"Absolutely not. I am as evil and regal as ever. Although…" She pauses, not wanting to admit weakness.

"Go on. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Another eye roll. "Fine. I… I was wondering if you might, uhm, give me some advice on how to get through to Henry. Since you were once in his position, I… He is very well behaved, too good, to be honest. I'm trying to help him as much as I can with schoolwork and such, but I'm cautious with affection, he definitely isn't a hugger, he's so independent, and I'm worried he's not telling me things. And as for other children, I'm fairly certain he hates them. Not that I don't relate, they can be so annoying, but he's supposed to be one of them! And-"

"Okay, hold up, there's already a lot to talk about here." Emma kisses Regina on the cheek. "But the fact that you're worrying, that you're asking, already tells me you're going to be just fine. He'll open up, it takes time. The one time I really got close to a foster parent, it was still six months before I shared anything significant with her. I liked her from the start, I was just really used to being let down. Uh, he'll hug when he's ready, I guess. And I mean, he's probably really trying to be good! He'll be like, in heaven, right now. Just like you're waiting for something crazy to happen, he'll be waiting for it too. If he's anything like me, he's kind of expecting it to go wrong, but also determined to enjoy it while he can."

Regina nods, tracing patterns on Emma's shoulder with a finger so she doesn't have to look at her.

"And what about friends, or lack thereof?"

Emma shrugs. "I never liked other kids much either. Or other people, really. How about you? What were you like as a kid?"

"I… I rarely socialised beyond school," Regina admits. Emma gets the feeling there's a lot she's not saying, but she lets it go for now.

"Well then. I think you're right that he probably should see other kids sometimes, and while we're filming he won't be in school… Does he have any hobbies?"

Regina nods. "He likes to read. He reads everything, my books, the newspaper, leaflets, magazines. I bought him some books for Christmas too but he hasn't touched them. I thought he didn't like them but he insists that he does. And yet, they sit on the shelf in his room and he hasn't opened any of them. I think I must have misjudged what to buy."

Emma frowns. "What did you get him?"

"The Harry Potter series, The Lord of The Rings, The Hunger Games, the Eoin Colfer collection, and a beautiful book of fairytales that's probably far too childish for him but I saw it in the shop and I just couldn't resist."

"Wait, Regina, you got him all of that?"

Regina looks at Emma, the shock in the blonde's tone surprising her. "Well, yes. Were they terrible choices?"

Emma shakes her head slowly. "No, Regina, they sound like great choices. But altogether that's like, 20 books? Brand new? And I bet you bought the fancy editions. This kid, he's probably never been given _anything_ before. He'll have no idea how to even process the fact that you gave them to him."

"But it was Christmas. Every child receives Christmas presents."

"Yeah, like, a new pencil for school, maybe. Not their own personal library!"

"But I thought he would like them," Regina protests. She seems close to tears. "What did I do wrong?"

"Hey, hey, I'm sure he does love them," Emma says, holding her close. "But it'll feel… Too good to be true. And if he reads them, he might mess them up, or you might take them away after he's gotten attached."

Regina sighs. "I did read that showering children with gifts is not a good idea. But it was Christmas, and they were books! The same article said that it was vitally important to encourage your child to read."

"He already reads," Emma points out.

"He read my copy of Cosmo."

"You read Cosmo?"

Regina picks up the latest issue from Emma's side table.

"I, uhm, it was a gift," Emma lies.

"You can discuss the articles with Henry. He'll tell you your romance hororscope."

"He will?"

"Yes. Apparently I'm going to meet the man of my dreams this week."

"Wow, well, let me know when you do, will you, so I can kick his ass?"

Regina plops a kiss on her lips. "So, I have an idea, but…"

"I do love a good butt."

"Shut up."

Emma smiles sweetly.

"My idea. I was wondering if you would come to dinner with Henry and me on Friday after filming. I thought maybe you could talk to him, I know he likes you. And if he won't talk to other children, at least he'll be talking to other people."

Emma nods. "Sounds like a really nice idea. What's the but?"

"He… I don't think he should know about us. It's not him, exactly, but a nine year old should never have the pressure of a secret like this."

"You're right there. And I agree. I don't want people to know… Just to be clear, Mills, even if you're ashamed of me, I'm not ashamed of you. I just don't think it would be fun if the paps got wind of this."

"No, you're not ashamed of me, you just sneak out of my house at the dead of night with no explanation whatsoever. You had me doubting my sexual prowess!"

"Okay, for that I am truly sorry. Not the sneaking. But you should never doubt yourself in bed. In fact, I think you might actually have claimed the top spot."

"Top..? I don't understand. You're hardly a bottom, Emma."

Emma cackles. "God, you're so sincere, it's gorgeous. But no, what I meant was, you may well be the best lay I've ever had."

Regina raises her eyebrows with a wide smirk. "Really?"

Emma blushes. "You don't need to look quite so smug about it."

"Calm down, Emma. You're definitely in my top ten, too."

"Asshole."

"Potty mouth."

"Potty? Did you actually just say potty? Regina, you need help."

Regina leans into the couch. "I should tidy myself up, I'm going to meet Henry soon."

Emma relaxes, closing her eyes. "I miss you already," she says with a sigh.

Regina laughs, then kisses her deeply.

"Swan?"

Emma hums contentedly.

" _No one_ finds out."

Emma opens her eyes so she can wink. "Gotcha."

"Are you just going to sleep here?" Regina asks ten minutes later. She's dressed, she's fixed her hair, reapplied her make up, and there's really no trace on her body of how she spent the last couple of hours. Apart from the stolen panties which she chose not to return, but they're hidden under her dress.

"Why not?" Emma mumbles happily. She's spread out over the whole couch now. Regina shakes her head, then reaches down to play with a strand of Emma's hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, lazyboots."

"Yeah, see ya," Emma replies with an embarrassingly snore-like snuffle. Regina leaves the trailer.

Henry's fairly subdued. Regina wonders what's up. She knows he likes his tutor, they picked her together before the holidays. She's called Mulan, like the warrior, and she even studies martial arts. Regina tries not to press him, not because she read not to, but because she knows that when she's a mood, people pestering her is even more annoying than usual. So she asks about food, because he's a nine year old boy and he's always interested in food.

"What would you like for dinner?" she asks as they walk to the car.

"I don't mind," he says quietly.

"Well, I'm exhausted. We won't make a habit of it, but would take out pizza be okay?"

That earns her a grin, but only a little one.

She drives back to her house - just as white and mansion-y as when Emma visited, but now with two personalised bedrooms instead of one. Henry's is on the other side of the top floor from hers, to give him (and maybe her, too) some space, and she let him pick out everything. She doesn't know if he really likes blue, or if he just said yes to the first set he saw to get it over with.

Regina gets a pizza order out of him and she calls. He sits in the living room. He does this quite often - sits. If she puts the TV on he watches it, but he never changes the channel. She doesn't think he'd even adjust the volume. He just accepts whatever is happening, and seems reasonably amused most of the time. He's loud on set, but in the house, he's so _good_. She wishes he would break something, or yell, or do something bad, so she could show him it's not the end of the world, but he hasn't made a single mistake and yes, it's nice having an angel child, but she was prepared for the foster boy from hell and he's just sweet and she wants to hold him and hug him and she wanted to do a good thing but she really wasn't prepared to fall quite so desperately in love with the boy.

She sits with him as they wait for the pizza.

"Did you like the read through?"

He nods.

"And your lessons, were they good?"

Another nod. Regina curses herself. She shouldn't plague him with questions. She should start a conversation, reveal something of herself…

"I was never allowed pizza as a little girl," she blurts out. She'd regret it immediately, but Henry's looking at her, actually making eye contact, and she wonders if maybe it was the right thing to say after all.

"Why not?"

Regina takes a deep breath. Okay. Sharing. Yes. She can do this. "My mother did not approve. It is greasy and messy, and you cannot eat it like a lady."

Henry looks at her even harder. "What was your mom like?" he asks.

Another deep breath. "She was a very driven woman, and she did everything she could to further my career. She made me the woman I am today."

Henry nods. "But what was she like as a person?"

Regina remembers from her reading that questions about parents are very common in foster children - they have no parents of their own, so they want information with which to formulate a picture of the ideal family.

"She was… Very smart," Regina says. She leaves it there; she watches Henry thinking.

"You get this look in your eyes when you talk about her," Henry says. "As if… Never mind."

She can't help it. "As if what?"

"As if she hurt you," Henry mumbles. "But I'm probably wrong. What do I know?"

Regina barely resists the impulse to take his hand. "She… She did hurt me, Henry. I would appreciate it if you kept that to yourself, though."

"Does anyone know?"

"My father knew, at the time."

"And that's it?"

Regina nods. Henry just looks, something in his eyes that Regina can't identify.

"They said, in the homes, that telling is brave," he says eventually.

"I think they are right," Regina says. "I have never been particularly brave."

"But you're, like, the prettiest, most famous woman in the world! You're in front of people all the time. You're the bravest person ever!"

Regina smiles at him.

"I suppose there are different kinds of bravery." The doorbell rings. "Pizza!"

The pizza is a welcome distraction. Henry eats his "like a lady" (holding his slice with his pinkie sticking out) and Regina laughs far too hard at the joke. Then Henry helps clean up, Regina manages not to hug him, and he goes to bed at 8pm.

Regina finds herself in her room too. She pulls out her laptop, checks her email, turns down suggestions from her agent, Kathryn, for several public appearances, and scrolls through Netflix for inspiration. To her amusement, the site recommends a ditzy rom com starring none other than Emma Swan. She giggles, and plays it.

 _Guess what I'm watching._

She's sent the text before even really registering, and the reply is immediate.

 _ **Porn.**_

 _Absolutely not_.

There's a pause, and Regina wonders if that's it. She watches her movie, but she can't help checking her phone every 30 seconds. _Finally_ there's a message; she opens it, pretending not to be excited.

It's a video, of Emma, presumably, though her face is not visible, dancing in front of a mirror in her sweatpants and a sports bra. She appears to be holding a small, fluffy dog in the hand not taking the video, and there is a red stain (wine? ketchup? blood?) on her pale grey pants.

 _ **Now you are.**_

The message is followed by three of the little yellow faces that Regina does not understand. These ones have an expression that can only be described as a smirk, and it seems rather sexual. She plays the video seven times (after making sure there's no way for Emma to tell) then replies.

 _That was horrific._

 _ **You're welcome. What are you actually watching?**_

 _Table for Three._

 _ **OH MY GOD TURN IT OFF REGINA THAT IS EVEN WORSE THAN MY DANCING SERIOUSLY STOP NOW DON'T YOU DARE YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME SERIOUSLY AGAIN!**_

 _You imply there was a point at which I did take you seriously._

 _ **Why are you watching it? Have you been googling me on the sly? Why, Regina, I didn't know you cared.**_

 _Netflix recommendation. But it has eight stars, for a rom com that's impressive! And I like it so far._

 _ **Oh, God, no… Please tell me the kid isn't watching with you.**_

 _Emma! It's rated 16. I am far more responsible than that._

 _ **Good point. So where is he then?**_

 _He went to bed._

 _ **Bed? Really? It's 8.30!**_

 _I know. But what can I do? Force him to stay up so we can sit in awkward silence again?_

 _ **That bad, huh?**_

 _Only today. He was so quiet. I think something's wrong, but I know he won't tell me until he's ready, regardless of what I say._

 _ **You're right there. You know, you don't seem half bad at this foster parent thing. I'm sure I'd be worse.**_

 _I'm not sure being better than you at anything is much of a compliment, but I suppose I'll take what I can get._

 _ **You're mean.**_

 _I have a reputation to uphold. What are you doing?_

 _ **Drinking beer. Dancing. Kissing Ana.**_

 _Who is Ana?!_

 _ **MY DOG, REGINA.**_

 _Tell her to keep it platonic. I am a very jealous woman._

 _ **Noted.**_

 _What is the red stain on your pants?_

 _ **Did you watch it with a magnifying glass? Jeez. It's ketchup. I think.**_

 _You think? How do you not know?_

 _ **It's not from today.**_

 _You're vile. When I come to your house it had better be clean._

 _ **You're coming to my house?**_

 _Hypothetically._

 _ **WAHOO!**_

 _No. I am never coming to your house._

 _ **Aw, come on. I'll even change the hypothetical sheets.**_

 _It's not as if I've even been invited…_

 _ **YOU ARE ALWAYS INVITED.**_ Regina laughs out loud as Emma proceeds to send her address. _**There. Come over any time. I'm never out unless I'm working and when I'm working, you'll be working too.**_

 _One day, I'm going to teach you how to play hard to get._

 _ **Why would I want to do that? I want you to get me. Why should I make it hard for you?**_

 _Touche._

 _ **I know what that means, Frenchie. It means you want to get me, too.**_

 _I suppose it does._

 _ **I can't believe you went and got yourself a kid. We were both so free and unattached. Now you'll have to, like, get a babysitter every time I'm horny.**_

 _I'm amused by your assumption that my behaviour will be in any way directed by YOUR libido._

 _ **That was a typo. I'm yours. Whenever, whatever, however you say.**_

Regina's giggling like a teenager.

 _ **Your Majesty.**_

 _ **Although, to be totally honest, if there's to be any of that, I'm so the D.**_

 _No._

 _ **Uh, have you SEEN my muscles? These are not just for show.**_

 _Clearly. They're for… Spanking?_

 _ **I'm the D.**_

 _ **(D's the bossy one, right?)**_

Regina chuckles.

 _ **OMG Regina I just googled - you make a FUCKING STUNNING dominatrix.**_

 _Was that a compliment?_

 _ **YES. Fuck me, if you dressed like that I'd do anything…**_

 _Don't make promises you cannot keep, Miss Swan._

 _ **Too far. Oh God, you're not secretly actually for real kinky, are you?**_

 _Only a very little. Ask me about it when we're not texting._

Her phone rings. Regina rolls her eyes, but answers, pausing the movie.

"So, in what ways are you kinky?" Emma asks.

Regina flushes; she's glad Emma can't see. She hides it with a cackle, wondering if she's going to tell the truth.

"I… I just have some ideas. And, if you hold this against me I will end you, but you're right, you really would be the, uhm, 'D'."

There's a large and pregnant silence in which they listen to each other's breathing.

"I won't hold it against you," Emma says, a little ragged. "I'm intrigued, though."

"I'll allow you to bear it in mind."

"You're fucking full of surprises, Mills."

"I do my best, Swan. Make no mistake, though. I may have some… Anomalous interests, but everywhere else in our relationship, I am most certainly in charge."

Emma laughs. "I was actually hoping for one of those modern, equal balance things."

"I suppose I could work with that. May I go back to my movie now?"

"It's actually my movie. But yeah, fine. I'll be here. With Ana. Being bored and lonely…"

"I can practically hear the wailing violins. Until tomorrow, Emma."

"Goodnight, Regina."

Emma ends the call, nuzzles Ana, slurps the last of her beer, then does 100 crunches because Regina likes her abs. Work out complete, she takes off her pants and throws them in the laundry, and steps under a cold, cold shower.

"Oh, Emma," she murmurs as the water sprays over her skin. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

The thing is, it's driving her crazy, it's probably a huge mistake, but she also feels the most alive she's felt since, well, since ever. Regina's so adorable, so smart and cute and funny and beautiful and caring and talented and basically the most awesome woman to ever exist and Emma's dangerously close to falling ass over tits in love with her and that should mean she's so, so fucked, but all she can feel is happy. She grins like an idiot as they text, and they text long into the night. She probably even grins in her sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

They get the day off on Tuesday; Emma works out. A lot. And then has coffee with Mary. There were very cute death threats involved. It turns out, though, that Mary doesn't want to be agent-y. No. She just wants all the gossip about Henry that Kathryn's been refusing to give her.

"She _adopted_ him? The Sammy kid?"

Emma groans into her Starbucks. "No. She's fostering him while we make the movie."

"What's the difference?"

How did she pick such an idiot to be her agent? Emma sighs. "Fostering isn't permanent. And there are fewer forms, because social services are still very involved."

"Why didn't you foster him?"

Emma blinks. "What?"

Mary shrugs. "Well, if someone was going to foster him, I would have expected it to be you. You have the history, after all."

"You know I don't want kids, Mary."

"Yes, but-"

"No, no but! He's a great kid but I can't foster every kid in a shitty care home just because I went through them too. I'd be a terrible mother."

It's Mary's turn to sigh. "I think you underestimate yourself. You'd be better than Regina Mills!"

Emma's close to being angry. "No! How can you say that? You don't know her, and you have no idea what kind of mother she is. So far as I know, she's great. There's your gossip, Mary Blanchard. I saw them on set yesterday and they're doing freaking fantastic. She's doing an awesome thing for that kid. Now will you shut up about it? Please?"

Mary has the decency to colour a little. "Sorry. I just… Emma, you never talk about your past. I thought this might be an opportunity-"

"I don't need this. I don't need your pity, and I definitely don't need you to try to be my friend because of it," Emma snaps. It's unfair, Mary _is_ her friend, but she's not in the mood for this today.

"Emma, I'm sorry," Mary says sincerely. "I was being silly, you're right, Regina's doing a great thing, and whether or not you want children is entirely up to you."

"Thank you," Emma says stiffly. "So, uh, how's David?"

Mary's eyes light up. "He's brilliant," she swoons. "So wonderful and attentive… I think he's going to ask me to move in with him soon! He keeps asking me house questions, like how I like my kitchen, or what colour he should repaint the den."

Emma smiles. "I'd like to meet him," she says. Her kind tone is a little forced, but she does mean it.

"You would? Oh, that would be wonderful. You could come to dinner with us. I could set you up! David plays basketball with Graham Humbert-"

"Ew! No way!"

"Why? He's dreamy!"

"He was in _porn_. Mainstream, terrible, symbol of gross rape culture porn. Some career mistakes can be forgiven, but no, not that one."

"He's a great guy, really. You'd like him."

"Wasn't he married? I thought he had a kid, too."

"His wife left him and changed the baby's name."

"Ouch."

"Which is why he needs cheering up!"

"No, seriously, Mary, I'm not looking for a guy right now."

"What about a girl?"

Emma reddens. "I'm not looking for _anyone_."

"Emma, you're always- Oh my God! You're only not looking when you've already found one! Who, who is… She? It's a she." Emma should never play poker. "Definitely a she. What's her name, come on, spill! Is she famous? Is she out? Is it all a big, dirty secret?"

"There is no she, Mary!" Emma lies. Mary rolls her eyes.

"Sure there isn't. Fine. Don't tell me. You can come to dinner with David and me by yourself like a big fat loser."

Emma laughs. "I could fire you, you know."

Mary giggles. "You wouldn't."

Emma glares at her until she looks worried, then winks, finishes her coffee, and gets up to leave. She drives home like a maniac, strangely frustrated. She considers why this could be as she greets Ana. They play in front of the TV; Emma pretends she can actually solve crimes, Ana chases her swan chew toy (someone's idea of a hilarious joke), they eat, they watch more TV, Emma half heartedly goes through her lines for the next day, then finally gives up and opens her laptop to google Regina Mills.

She realises, 3 pages into the image search results, that she's seconds from shoving her hand down her pants. She bites her lip, hard, and picks up her phone for something to do. She tweets the mailbox emoji. Decode that, fangirls. Then she opens her messages with Regina. Technically Regina actually texted her last, but it was just a goodnight, which doesn't really count. She groans. She doesn't want to bother Regina, she's having a day with the kid, and anyway, they're not really friends.

Okay, so they had a great conversation last night, but it was pretty much all about the flirting.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Emma demands to Ana, who sniffs her knee in response. She didn't get like this, she didn't get all gooey over relationships, and she didn't get horny as hell, either. Oh, fuck it.

 _ **How was your day?**_

Seriously, Emma? How lame can you get? She groans at herself again, but it's sent now, and it's not like Regina's going to ignore her.

Is she?

Regina, meanwhile, is locked in her bathroom. She's not crying, she doesn't cry (except after really intense orgasms, but that doesn't count), so she's just looking in the mirror, frowning. She's made no headway with Henry. They had a great day, they went to the beach and played catch, she even got him laughing, but he didn't tell her what's bothering him (and it's definitely still bothering him) and she'll be busy on set most of tomorrow so she won't be able to keep as close an eye on him and why won't he just tell her, dammit? He's in bed again, she'd hoped he might be reading, but his light's off. She wonders what he is doing. He can't be sleeping that long. She has a horrible suspicion he's just lying there, thinking about all the dark things he can't bring himself to share.

Her phone pings. She checks it. Emma. She stares at the simple, boring message, and shudders with what would be a sob if her body remembered how.

 _Fine, thank you. How was yours?_

Now it's ringing.

"Emma-"

"Yeah, yeah, random calling, sorry not sorry. If you're busy, don't answer."

"Fair point."

"So what's up? You're not fine."

"How do you know?"

"No one ever uses fine sincerely. How's the kid?"

"We had a good day, but he's not talking."

"And you're getting bothered by it?"

"Not personally! But I'm worried that he's not okay. He's… He's always thinking."

"Some parents are proud when their child thinks."

Regina rolls her eyes, letting herself out of the bathroom.

"So, I actually called you because I've been looking at pictures of you on the internet-"

"I'm going to stop you right there because I'm fairly sure I don't want to know what you were going to say next."

"Spoilsport."

Regina chuckles. It feels hollow, as if her heart isn't ready to laugh yet. Emma notices. Does Emma notice everything?

"What's up, Mills?"

Regina takes a breath. She's not ready.

"Me, pictures, naked. Let's go back to that."

"I never said you were naked."

"I inferred. If I give you permission, will you go?"

"You want me to go?"

Emma sounds small. Hurt, almost.

"No," Regina sighs. "But Henry is here, and I don't think he's sleeping, and I'm stressed and worried and not in the mood."

"I didn't call you just to get off, you know. I called you because you said you were fine."

"I know. I appreciate it."

"Regina?"

"Emma?"

"I wish I could change the world, you know?"

Regina sits down on her bed, rolling the shoulders of her tired, battered soul.

"I want to do so much," Emma continues. "I thought, when I was a kid, that if I got rich and famous, I'd be able to do anything. But I almost feel like I can do even less than I could then. Sure, I have awesome cars and a heavenly bed. But I'm not fighting for anything any more. And I used to have so much to fight for."

Regina searches her heart for something to say. Her face aches with unshed tears; she licks her dry, unsteady lips. Because Regina is fighting. She's always been fighting. She's fighting everything, everything she wants to be against everything she's supposed to be against everything she actually is, and somewhere, lost on that multifaceted battlefield, perhaps even a casualty, is a little girl who just wanted to ride horses and climb trees and sing in Spanish.

"It's going to be alright," Regina murmurs into the phone. Neither of them believe her. "See you tomorrow, Emma."

The call ends and Regina listens to the dull tone of disconnection for several long minutes. Then she goes to Henry's door and sits, leaning on the wall just beside it.

"Are you awake?" she whispers.

There's no answer.

"You probably think I'm crazy, Henry, but I… I wish I could be braver for you. I wish you believed that you're safe here, because you are, safe, here, with me. And I wish you'd tell me what's wrong, even give me a clue, something, anything, because I want to help you with all my heart, but I can't help you if I don't know what you need help with."

She rests her head on her knees, jumping in surprise when the door brushes open. Henry doesn't speak, he just closes the door behind him, then sits beside her, sticking his legs out, flexing his toes. He's wearing the new pyjamas they bought when he moved in but he's already outgrowing them. Regina thinks he's going to be tall, he'll stoop in doorways and bend down to kiss her forehead.

"You're weird," he says, reminding her that he's nine.

"I know," she says. "Does it bother you?"

He shrugs. "Not really. Are you _this_ sad because of me?"

She looks over at him, about to say no, of course not, but then something catches in her stomach and she reaches down with her hand. She doesn't take his, she just puts hers within obvious reach.

"Yes," she says.

He puts his hand in hers. She gasps. Because this is the first time he's touched her, and he's so whole, so alive, so little, so real, and he's her _son_. She knew already. But now she _knows_.

"I don't want to leave," Henry says. "I won't be able to take the books with me."

"I don't want you to leave, either."

"You don't? Even though I made you sad?"

"I'm sad because I like you, not because I don't."

"Oh. Why?" He asks with the simplicity of his years, in the irritating way that children often do. Only this is no childish question. This runs deep, and Regina feels his distrust.

"Why do I like you, or why does that make me sad?"

"Both."

"I like you because you're brilliant, you're smart and funny and incredibly mature for your age, because you talk to me and think about things and you're an amazing actor and you agreed to try out living with me even though you hardly knew me. And that makes me sad because I like you so much, but I don't know how to make you happy."

"I am happy," he lies. She narrows her eyes, an edited for television version of her deathglare.

"I… I like it here," Henry says. "A lot. But soon I'll go back to the group home and it'll be even worse than before, because now I've been _here_."

"You… I know I'm weird, and hardly motherly, but, what about if… What about if you didn't have to go back?"

"What do you mean?"

Regina bites her lip. "What if you stayed here forever?"

He's very silent, and his face gives nothing away.

"Are you lying?" he asks.

"No, of course not."

"Not that kind of lying. I know you don't think you're lying. But sometimes people lie by accident."

Regina considers. "I would have to do a lot of paperwork, and we'd have to talk to social services, a lot, probably. But if you want it, Mr. Gilmore, there is nothing I would love more than to adopt you as my son."

Regina then learns, through first hand experience, what it feels like to be hit by a human cannonball.

"Yes please," he mumbles into her hair. She holds him close and rubs his back and wondered when the hell she decided she could possibly be a mother. She realises it was probably about two months after she became one.

She follows him into his room and with the utmost care, removes the first Harry Potter book from the bookshelf. She places it in his hands.

"Books like to be read," she says gently. He smiles at her, wide and bright.

"I'm weird too," he confides. She reaches out and brushes his hair out of his eyes.

Emma sleeps fitfully, but makes it to work on time. Her frustration makes the first Marie/Maria scene even more exciting than the script suggests, Callie loves it, and they have an hour free. Regina looks like she doesn't know whether to be ecstatic or terrified. Emma escorts her to a supply closet. It's filled with metal shelves and ancient cases of film and all the stunt equipment.

"I'm adopting Henry," Regina blurts out as soon as the door's closed behind them. Emma rolls her eyes.

"Well, duh."

And then Regina laughs out a bubble of tension she didn't even realise was inside her. Emma laughs too, as she topples them onto a pile of crash mats. Regina is, in her own opinion, shamefully needy and snuggly, but Emma loves it. Emma can be both soft and protective, she can let all the tension ebb out of the room until there's nothing left but quiet moans and whimpers.

There isn't time for much snuggling afterwards, and Regina hurries to dress so they can leave and return to work separately.

"So, the kid's good, huh?" Emma asks as she slides into her - well, Marie's - dress.

"He was worrying about leaving. Of course, it's obvious, but I didn't think… I didn't realise how much he liked being with _me_."

Emma laughs. "You're amazing, Regina, but you can be a complete idiot sometimes. Of course he wants to live with you. You're you." _How could anyone not want to be around you every minute of every day for the rest of their lives?_

Regina fixes her hair and doesn't comment on Emma's certainty that she is wonderful.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asks suddenly.

Emma shrugs. "Learning tomorrow's scenes, I guess. You'll be with the kid?"

Regina shakes her head. "He has therapy, first one on one, then with a group. I have to take him but I can't go in and I was wondering if you would- Never mind," she cuts herself off suddenly. "It's a silly idea." She's foolish to think Emma will want to spend time with her for any reason other than a booty call, and she isn't about to offer herself up for rejection. She's Regina Mills, she doesn't get turned down, even for coffee and conversation.

Emma stands, shaking out her curly blonde mane, and peers into Regina's dark, unrevealing eyes.

"What were you asking, Regina?"

"I…" Regina studies her feet in designer shoes that aren't her own. "I have to wait," she admits. "It's too far away from my house to make it worth going home and back in the two hours. There's a coffee shop around the corner and I sit in there, reading, but today, I don't know, I just didn't want to be… I didn't want to be alone."

The admission burns as she releases it, her cheeks flush with shame and she doesn't dare look up. But then she feels a hand in hers.

"You're asking me to get a coffee with you?" Emma asks. Regina brings herself to look and the bitch is grinning, _grinning_ at her. And dammit, now she's grinning too.

"I'm a sucker for coffee, you know," Emma says, her confidence soaring now Regina's found her smile. "And, I mean, for work, I think it would be super beneficial for us to run lines together."

" _Super_ beneficial."

"Yup. Super."

"Super…" Regina echoes. "For our work, of course," she adds hurriedly.

"Exactly. We're nothing if not dedicated professionals."

"Quite. Speaking of which, we should get back to it."

Regina kisses Emma on the cheek. The cold, calculating part of her mind (trained by her mother) regrets the impulsive action, but for once its stern chastisements are drowned out by her heart, which thrums with delight at the way Emma's eyes light up at the kiss.

Emma watches her go and channels Marie. This works to an extent, but is complicated by the fact that Marie is supposed to be falling in love with Maria, while Emma is most definitely not supposed to be falling in love with anyone.

BREAK

"I knew it! You are no Daughter of the American Revolution!" Regina spits. Emma hurries to finish her mouthful of coffee.

"Get off your high horse, _Maria_. You might have the right dresses, the right lipstick, the right hair, but you're no aristocrat yourself," she says with a snide smirk.

" _MARIA slams MARIE into the bathroom mirror with such force that it shatters._ Get off my turf, saviour. We have no need of your kind here."

"My kind?" Emma hisses. "What kind would that be? Good? As opposed to your Evil?"

"I'm not evil!" Regina protests, trying to sound strong, but with vulnerability seeping through. "Not any more."

" _MARIE escapes her grip, shakes out her dress, and moves to leave. She turns before the door_. You could've fooled me." Emma makes it sort of regretful, not pity, exactly, but almost kind. "And then," she snaps back to herself, "you watch me leave with a mixture of frustration, hatred, and sadness."

Regina responds with a look that can only be described as eye fucking. Emma shudders.

"You know this movie is for kids, right?"

Regina laughs and sips her fancy hot chocolate.

Emma reaches for the cinnamon shaker on their table. "May I?"

"Cinnamon?"

"Trust me."

Regina allows it. It's only a drink, and Emma's like a puppy when you humour her. She'd drink dishwater to be the cause of the sparkle in those big green eyes. Emma shakes on a generous helping of cinnamon and Regina tastes, expecting the worst.

"Oh my God, it's good!" she exclaims.

"Always the tone of surprise…" Emma drawls. "My talents extend far beyond the bedroom, you know."

"Yes, you have the kitchen too," Regina quips. "You're well on the way to being the perfect housewife."

Emma chooses to ignore this particular dig, and leans forward, batting her eyelashes. "So, about bedrooms…"

Regina drinks more hot chocolate. It really is delicious.

"Can you be quiet?" she asks, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Silent as the grave," Emma promises.

"Tomorrow night, ten o'clock. On one condition."

"Anything."

"Let me _work_ at work. No… Funny business, until the evening."

"Anything but that! As I recall, Ms Mills, I'm hardly the sole instigator. You still have my underwear. Thief."

"Keep your hands to yourself until tomorrow night and I'll let you punish me for stealing it."

Emma's jaw drops. Regina smirks into her drink.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma gets pretty much no sleep (she's experiencing levels of frustration she didn't know were possible) but at least she isn't late for work. She actually gets to hair and makeup before Regina, and chuckles as she selects the comfiest chair for herself (swapping it from Regina's station to her own).

Regina walks in a minute later holding two take away coffee cups, but when she sees what Emma's done, she doesn't distribute them as originally intended, instead calling Ruby over from the costume rack.

"You like black coffee?" she asks.

Ruby grins. "Black coffee with Emma written on the cup?"

Regina smirks. "Emma's being a pain."

Ruby cackles. "Thanks, Emma," she sing-songs, taking the coffee. "Your costumes are labelled over there. Same as yesterday, so it shouldn't be complicated."

She saunters out of the trailer. Emma glares daggers at Regina, who sits regally in the lesser chair, sipping her coffee. The makeup artists get to work, rolling their eyes at what they assume is actor's rivalry. Emma gets out her phone.

 _ **You're gonna pay for that later**_ **.**

Regina peers at her over the coffee.

 _I sincerely hope so._

Emma shifts in her seat. Dammit. She's so screwed. ALL DAY. How the hell is she going to last all day?

The makeup ladies leave and they go to get changed. There's a kind of screen to give them separate places to change but since they're alone, Regina doesn't use it, simply stripping right down to her neat black panties and letting Emma see everything.

"We have time," Emma growls. Regina chuckles.

"Finish my coffee, there's still a little left. You'll be fine. Think about… Baseball?"

"I hate you," Emma says unconvincingly.

"You can take it all out. All that frustration. You just have to wait until later. Meanwhile, I get to use your head to break sugar glass. I can't wait."

"Sugar glass? It's not going to be CG?"

"I asked Callie. She thinks this will be more authentic. You don't mind, do you?"

Emma touches her head, feeling rather dejected. "No, my head was never my best feature."

"Of course. You prefer to think with your hoohah."

Emma moves forward to zip her up. "Please say hoohah again," she murmurs into Regina's ear. If Regina's going to tease her all day, she'll be damned if she doesn't do the same.

Regina shudders deliciously, but steps out of the trailer without another word. Emma struggles into her dress and squares her shoulders, finding Marie.

She ran the lines several more times last night (with Ana, doing a silly voice for Maria) but as she walks onto set she can't bring them to mind at all. Regina's coffee dregs taste grainy in her mouth and she wills everything to work out in the scene. It often happens that she can't recite lines just before she films them, but then when the scene starts and she's properly in character, they roll off her tongue.

There are several things she'd like to roll _on_ her tongue right now.

The scene begins with Regina chasing Emma into the bathroom. They wait out of the shot. They'll film the country club luncheon next week when they're on location. It's weird, not shooting chronologically, but there's a school of thought that argues this can be better. It makes the scenes fresher. It's more demanding for the actors, but it means they focus more on the writing, on the deep nuances of the scene, and don't try to write the story themselves.

"Okay, we have tons of mirrors, and we're expecting this to take a few goes," Callie says. She beckons the stunt co-ordinator.

"Jay's going to talk you through it."

Jay, an incredibly fit looking man, beckons them into the bathroom set and explains about the sugar glass.

"We have several sheets, so we're going to do a few practice slams."

"I want to film them, just in case," Callie says. "So even though you're practicing, stay in character, in case there's something we can use."

Emma gives herself a shake. Jay shows her how to hold her body so she doesn't get hurt, and demonstrates the amount of force (apparently very little) that it will take to break the glass. Callie also wants to do several takes without any glass at all; she explains that it's a pivotal scene and she wants to have lots of options.

Emma tries not to groan. Regina slamming her into a wall over and over again is really not what she needs right now. At least Regina seems a little nervous, too.

"Okay, so Emma, if you can go from 'Get off your high horse', we'll get started," Callie says when Jay declares them ready.

Regina looks at the glass, then at Emma, then nods.

"Action!"

"Get off your high horse, Maria! You might have the right dresses, the right lipstick, the right hair, but you're no aristocrat yourself."

She's waiting for it but she's still surprised when Regina grabs her by the shoulders and slams her into the mirror. It shatters, it doesn't hurt at all but Emma feels the wind knocked out of her as Regina's body presses against hers.

"We should really have a safe word," she mutters in Regina's ear. Regina slams her into the already broken glass, giving her a look of pure evil. And then again, for good measure. Then she laughs.

"I'm so caught up in the stunt that I have no idea what my line is," she admits, turning to Callie, who chuckles.

"Well the stunt was awesome, and I kind of like that you slammed her again. What did you say, Emma?"

Emma blushes. "I was just riling her up. I said, as Marie, obviously, that we should really have a safe word."

Callie laughs loudly. "I love it. Not here, it's too early, but I actually think we can throw that into the big fight scene."

"What's a safe word?" a little voice pipes up. Henry bounds into the room, followed by an apologetic looking Mulan.

"He heard about the stunt, he wants to watch," she explains. Henry gives Callie his best puppy eyes. She's powerless; she gives him her chair.

"Some things, Henry," Regina calls over to him, "you really don't want to know."

Henry sticks his tongue out at her. To Emma's delight, she sticks hers out back.

"Okay, let's whack my head into the wall again," Emma says, every bit the miserable martyr.

Three mirrors later, Emma's inexplicably turned on, Regina's equally red in the face, Henry's cackling silently but gleefully, and Callie is still thinking of different angles. Emma holds an ice pack to her head, but really she wants to hold it to her crotch. Or maybe just dive into a whole bath full of ice.

"One more," Callie insists. "But the whole scene this time."

Emma gives her ice to Henry, who does a brilliant imitation of her, holding it to his head and making a whiny face, and Emma has to admit, he really is a fantastic actor.

"Forget the movie, we should just point the camera at the kid for a couple of hours. He'd enjoy the attention."

Henry rolls his eyes and Emma and Regina find their places.

It's nice, doing the whole scene. Regina's lines are perfect, Emma hasn't managed to derail her again, and Emma remembers everything too, though when Regina exits the bathroom, her expression is more "stunned lust" than the complex cocktail of deep emotions she'd been considering the night before.

Callie loves it, though. They take a break before running the scene a few more times without any glass, then since Jay's with them, Callie suggests they spend the afternoon doing stunt training for the big fight scene they'll film towards the end of shooting.

"Great, more hitting Emma," Emma gripes.

"Can I come?" Henry asks.

"You have school," Regina says.

"Phys Ed," Henry points out.

"I tell you what. Mulan can come too, and you can do a bit of training, then some lessons, but you can watch me kicking Emma's ass while you work. How's that?"

Henry grins. "Awesome."

Regina realises that despite his apparent confidence on set, he doesn't actually expect her to want him around. She goes to her trailer to get changed; Emma departs to do the same.

 _Ready for some wrestling?_ Regina texts, feeling every bit the evil queen the tabloids call her. She wonders if she's riling Emma up too much, but she wants her frustrated. It'll make everything so much more fun tonight. Her heart flutters in her chest as she thinks about what she wants, her deepest, darkest fantasies…

 _ **I think you want me to kick your ass.**_

Regina chuckles. There's no point denying it. But teasing Emma is so much fun.

 _Do you really think you can?_

 _ **Oh Regina, you have no idea what I'm capable of.**_

Emma changes into yoga pants and a sports bra, then a tank top because Henry will be there. She flexes her muscles and thinks back to her MMA training. She knows she's strong, and she's known how to fight since she was younger than Henry, but she has a sneaking suspicion Regina might be hiding a black belt. She's just that kind of person. Emma knows she can't always win, but she doesn't relish the idea of losing in front of the kid. Regina might be his foster mom, but Emma wants to be the cool one.

Jay has a stunt training studio, with mats and punch bags and giant mirrors. Henry's set up at a little desk with Mulan, pretending to be hard at work. Regina's already there when Emma walks in, her perfect ass displayed by purple workout pants. Emma shudders as she thinks about what she might be allowed to do to it later, if she plays her cards right.

Jay beckons them over.

"So, fighting on screen is all about appearance. You want to appear to be hurting the other person, often without touching them. That means knowing they have to know how to get hit, and how to fall. Maria and Marie's fighting is also a lot about chemistry. They want to hurt each other, but," he smirks, "they also want other things."

He goes on to describe the first stunt he's going to teach them - getting punched in the face.

"Have either of you ever been punched in the face?" he asks as he pulls up YouTube on his phone.

To their mutual surprise, they both say yes. Jay chuckles.

"Actresses, huh? Well, try to remember what that felt like, and what your body did, because today you're going to try to mimic it without messing up your faces."

He plays a video for them - it's a mash up of famous fight scenes.

"Okay, who wants to try?"

Emma finds herself standing in the middle of a crash mat, Regina opposite her, readying her fist. It feels all kinds of awkward.

"I think you should just hit her for real, Regina," the kid pipes up.

"Do your school work," Emma calls to him.

"Fall on your ass!" Henry calls back.

"Language, please," Regina chides.

"Sorry," he says, sounding almost genuine.

Regina raises her fist. Emma thinks back to high school. And the other week in that bar on Christmas Eve. Regina's fist flies millimetres from her face and she twists and falls back, stumbling, but not quite crashing to the ground. Henry claps. Jay grins.

"Nice. Want to try the other way?"

They switch places. Emma's eyes twinkle. Regina knows she's up to something. She narrows her eyes warningly, but there's not much she can do. Emma punches; Regina falls and Emma loses her balance (that's her story and she's sticking to it) and tumbles on top of her, pinning her face down on to the mat, her hips covering that delicious ass.

"Oops," she smiles into Regina's hair. Regina scrambles up, pretending to be angry rather than aroused.

"Watch yourself, Miss Swan!" she fumes.

"Yeah, maybe go a little easier on the force of the swing," Jay suggests.

"Sorry," Emma says, smiling sweetly. "Regina doesn't like it when I go easy on her."

Regina knees her in the gut (gently, though) as she gets up, and they go back to fake hitting each other.

Henry finishes his assignment and Regina allows him to join in; he learns how to fall. They even practise falling off boxes, which is just a laugh. They end up in a giggling heap on the mat. Jay takes a picture and sends it to them.

"You guys should get the official account to tweet this. Perfect movie family. It'll be great for publicity."

"I'm cool with it," Emma says. Regina examines the picture. It looks very happy and natural, and it's mostly about Henry. She and Emma are looking at him, not each other. She nods.

"Yes, that sounds good. Henry, are you hungry?"

"Regina's teaching me how to cook," Henry says proudly.

"Wow, I wish someone would teach me," Emma says.

"Well you're coming over tomorrow, right? Come early and _I'll_ teach you," he says. Emma grins.

"You're on - if that's okay with you, Regina?"

Regina nods. She rises from the mat; Henry skips along with her. Emma wants to snap another picture of them, they're such a little family, with their messy dark hair and matching smiles.

She wishes she could see herself with them. It's where she wants to be, more than anything. But she's not a family person. As she tells Mary over and over, she doesn't want kids, she doesn't want to be a mother, and she knows she'd make a terrible wife, too.

She drives home listening to too-loud music, picking Ana up from Mary's on the way. Mary's delighted to see her, and invites her over for dinner. The first offer is for tomorrow night; she's beyond gleeful when Emma says she has plans.

"You mean, real plans, with another human, and not just you and Ana and take-out?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "Yes, real plans. Can I go now?"

"Don't tell me, you have plans tonight, too?"

"No," Emma lies. "I'm just tired. We were doing stunts."

"I saw the picture on the Twitter account! Very cute. How long did you guys have to pose to capture that?"

"It was a candid shot, actually. The trainer took it."

"Oh… But Regina looks so warm, I-"

"She is warm. She loves the kid," Emma snaps.

"I didn't mean, I just…" Mary trails off.

Emma knows there's a history there, but she's getting kind of sick of all Mary's comments. Why shouldn't Regina be a good mother, a warm, loving parent?

"What is it you think you know about her?" Emma asks.

Mary shuffles.

"Tell me." Emma's tone brooks no refusal.

"I knew her when she was a child," Mary admits. "We were at school together. She was a few grades above me but everyone knew who she was. Her father made cider, he owned a huge orchard across the valley. And her mother used to be the icon of Beverly Hills."

"Used to be? Did she die?"

"No, she moved to New York. She's still a tabloid worthy socialite, though Regina never talks about her."

Emma frowns. "And why does any of this mean Regina should be cold?"

Mary shrugs. "She always was at school. She was downright mean. And Cora Mills… Well, the papers call _Regina_ evil, but she's warm and fuzzy compared with her mother. Cora would kill you as soon as look at you if it would further her or her daughter's career. And Regina was always utterly under her thumb."

Emma got the feeling there was more to the story, but Mary wasn't telling and Emma wanted Regina's version anyway. She arranged to pick up Ana on Saturday morning so she didn't have a time limit to her dinner plans the next day (which got Mary annoyingly excited again) and left, trying not to think too much.

So what if Regina had been mean in high school? Emma had been a terror. And as for weird families, Emma had several of those, and it wasn't like she'd talked to Regina about them either. They were screwing, not dating, and knowing these kinds of things about each other would only make everything more complicated. Emma didn't know why she felt so rattled. It was just a feeling…

When she got home, against her better judgement, she looked up Cora Mills.

 _New York's favourite matriarch, Cora Mills, steals the hearts of younger socialites as she continues to dominate the fashion scene…_

Emma reads on until she gasps out loud.

 _Conspiracists argue Mills is no stranger to breaking hearts - literally. Cora's late husband, born Enrique Zambrano (though known as Henry Mills, CEO of a world famous cider company), passed away seven years ago aged just 55, from a sudden and unexpected heart attack. Mills continued to run his business as if nothing had happened, though his sudden death could be the cause of her apparent estrangement from her daughter, Regina. While neither Regina Mills nor Cora will comment on their discord, mother and daughter have not been seen together since the funeral in 2008._

Regina's father was _dead_? But Regina had talked about him like… Yes, she had _definitely_ acted like he was alive. Emma can't help herself, she sends a text.

 _Why didn't you tell me your dad died?_

Her cell starts ringing almost immediately.

"Emma, I'm going to need some context," Regina says when Emma picks up.

"Okay, how about this? When we met, I remember it vividly. You gave me cider, you said your dad makes it, I said it was great, and you said he'd appreciate the compliment. Like, in the present tense!"

Regina remembers it too. She remembers the night, how she felt, what she needed. She shudders at the pain of thinking about her father and wishes she could still avoid it with half truths and masked expressions. But she knows Emma now, too well to lie to her.

"I…" she said awkwardly. "I'm going to have to go, we're making dinner, but yes, I lied. I didn't want to talk about it, it's not something… My family are not something I generally feel comfortable discussing."

"Oh," Emma says. "But-"

"I am truly sorry," Regina adds. "I should not have lied to you."

Emma swallows. "Okay. You're forgiven. But that's weird, Regina. Really weird."

"I know. Henry and I have already determined that we are both rather weird."

"He's in the room?"

"Yes, as of a moment ago."

"Then, I'll see you later. Have fun."

"Thank you."

They end the call. Emma stares at the offending article and wonders what other secrets Regina's been hiding, or downright lying about.

BREAK

A long shower, a change of outfit, and two grilled cheese sandwiches later, Emma's worry is all but gone, and she's in the car on the way to something she's been anticipating for over 24 hours. So what if she doesn't know Regina? She's about to know her in a much more natural sense, and that's _way_ better. And less complicated.

Regina lies on her bed, dressed in Emma's underwear and her robe. She feels rattled. She'd forgotten, she forgets, how to _be_ with people, how to trust them, how to tell them the truth. She doesn't like talking about her father's death so she just _doesn't_ , she goes as far as to tell stupid lies to make sure people don't know or care.

Is she really that cold?

She'll have to talk to Henry about it, she'll have to explain her mother, too. She frowns. She doesn't want to think about this. She wills Emma to hurry up. It's 9.59pm and she _really_ needs to stop thinking.

Emma uses the unlocked back door, as arranged, and creeps upstairs. Regina's light is on; she enters the room.

"Hey," she whispers.

Regina is sitting on the end of the bed in a silk dressing gown. Her hair and makeup are perfect. Emma leans down and kisses her. She looks worried, though.

"Do you still want to do this?" Emma asks.

Regina smiles at Emma's adorable sensitivity. "Yes," she says firmly. It's true. And she doesn't just want it, she _needs_ it. She needs someone to take control, she needs someone to force her to let go.

"Snow White," Emma says. "That's our safe word."

"Fairytales?" Regina asks, amused.

"Why not? It's easy to remember, has innocent connotations, and I think we both know someone very non-sexual that totally reminds me of her."

Regina laughs. "You mean Mary Blanchard, and I'm not going to comment, but yes, fine, Snow White is the safe word."

Emma clenches and unclenches her fists, trying not to be nervous. She's so excited she thinks she might burst, but now she's here, for real, she feels like a kid in a candy shop - not the kid who grabs everything, but the kid who's so bemused at just getting to be in here that she's got no idea what to take.

"Find the part of you that craves control, Emma," Regina says, her tone low and sultry. "I made you so frustrated today. I made you wait. And," she drops her robe, "I stole your underwear."

Emma squares her shoulders, then looks down at the woman on the bed. The woman she wants so much from, so much that she can't have, and she feels anger and frustration build inside her, combining with lust and turning her eyes black and terrifying. She strips unceremoniously, her clothes will only get in the way.

"On your knees," she commands, elated when the order is instantly obeyed.

Regina drops to her knees in front of Emma's bared sex, already salivating.

"You want this, don't you?" Emma spits. "You want me to come all over your face."

The door's locked; she keeps her voice quiet, they really don't want to be interrupted.

"Just your mouth," Emma warns. "Keep your hands behind your back."

Regina laces her fingers together behind her and leans forward, sweeping her tongue between Emma's folds. She's wet, and she tastes so, so good; Regina moves closer, angling her strokes to brush Emma's clit, then swirling her tongue around her entrance.

She's sensual and efficient, and enjoys herself almost as much as Emma does, but her instincts betray her; she catches the backs of Emma's thighs in her hands just as the blonde reaches her climax.

Emma finishes riding out the waves, then yanks Regina up to kiss her.

"You didn't trust me," she accuses. "You held me up, you thought I'd fall on you."

"No I didn't-" Regina protests. Emma holds her at arm's length.

"Don't lie," she warns. Regina's sex twinges at the danger in her voice.

"Okay, yes, I thought you might fall on me," she admits, looking at the floor.

Emma pulls her chin up with two fingers.

"You have to trust me," she says, and she means it.

"I'm sorry, I-" Emma puts the fingers over her lips.

"Now, where were we?" she pretends to muse. She lowers her hand; it's joined by the other one and they travel down Regina's sides until they hook into the waistband of the infamous red boy shorts.

"Ah, yes. You're very beautiful, for a thief," Emma says, snapping the elastic of the panties. Regina gasps. Emma bends her knees and slowly slides them off, knowing Regina will appreciate the visual.

"You got them wet," Emma accuses. Regina smirks. Emma taps her mouth.

"Open," she says.

Regina does so. Emma is enthralled by how compliant she is, how she seems to relish being without control, and yet also manages to seem amused by Emma's attempts to take it.

Emma gently pushes the offending panties into Regina's mouth. Regina moans as she tastes herself.

"You know I have to punish you," Emma says, walking them towards the bed. She sits on the end of it and tugs Regina towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone.

"Lie across my lap, arms above your head," Emma says, her quiet tone making it both almost kind, and almost threatening.

Regina pauses, momentarily surprised, but a rush of wetness between her thighs reminds her and, cheeks flushed, she does as she's told.

Emma strokes her hand over Regina's ripe, round ass. It might just be her favourite thing. She thinks of all the ways Regina drives her mad, and spurred on by the sticky wetness that's now on her thigh, she raises her hand and brings it down with a sharp slap.

Regina gasps into the makeshift gag, again surprised at the strength and confidence with which Emma just hit her, but also incredibly aroused. This is not something she indulges in often; in her position, she couldn't, but she's known for years that it releases her in a way that's different from anything else.

Emma hits her again and she's glad her moans are muffled. She grips the sheet, shifting her hips a little in a desperate attempt to find some friction. Emma notices, of course.

"Keep still," she warns, delivering several more slaps. She rewards Regina's obedience by parting her legs a little and tracing her left hand down Regina's stomach, finding her clit just as she lands another bow.

Regina knows she'll explode if Emma does that again. She's pretty sure Emma knows it too, because she keeps rubbing her clit and the last time she hits her is _hard_. Regina comes silently, biting down on the cotton in her mouth, rocking on Emma's lap.

Emma lifts her immediately, turning her onto her side, pulling out the gag and kissing her sweetly.

"Are you good?" she asks, and Regina has to admit, she's relieved it's her Emma again. Dark Emma was hot as hell, but this Emma feels like home.

"Yes," she whispers. Emma guides her onto the bed until she's lying on her stomach, then disappears to the bathroom. She returns with lotion - another pleasant surprise.

She works it into Regina's reddened skin, though it becomes a full blown massage when she realises how much Regina's enjoying it.

Massaging turns to cuddling, which turns to kissing, which turns to more intense activities with Emma still in control, but much more casually.

"I like you better as a goofball," Regina admits. "You're hot when you're scary. But I like you as you."

Emma wonders why she likes being scared at all. Maybe it's just a relaxing thing. She certainly seems very relaxed. Emma wonders if there's more to it, but she lets it go. They're not in a relationship, not a conventional one, anyway, and this isn't about feelings, it's about giving each other what they need and not asking too many awkward questions.

She holds Regina tightly; she can tell the brunette is moments from sleep.

"I have to go," she says. She doesn't know why she feels guilty. Of course she has to go. Why should she be there when Regina wakes up?

Regina mumbles in agreement, but holds on tighter, too. Emma kisses her forehead; it's the last thing she feels before sleep claims her. Emma waits for a few minutes, listening to their breathing, before she wraps Regina safely in the comforter and begins collecting up her clothes. She takes her panties back, because they're definitely still lucky, and creeps out of the house the same way she came in.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that this is a bad idea. They're digging themselves in deeper and deeper, and the only possible outcome is that someone is going to get hurt. The best Emma can do is hope that it's her. Because she can take it. She's more than used to being given up by now.


	5. Chapter 5

TW: References to past abuse (this should really be a constant warning label on Emma and Regina; please remember that the trigger is only a tiny part of the chapter and I am more than happy to send you an edited version if you PM me and tell me what you need to avoid).

BREAK

 _A supernova is a rare celestial phenomenon involving the explosion of a star and resulting in an extremely bright, short-lived object that emits vast amounts of energy. Depending on the type of supernova, the explosion may completely destroy the star-_

"Henry, did you copy this off the internet?"

Henry bites his lip. "I did… But Mulan said to look up the answers I didn't know!"

Regina looks in his textbook; there's no explanation because it's a research question. She wonders how to explain.

"Try to use your own words for the answer… So it's okay to look things up online, but the trick is to write _your_ answer in a way that someone like you would easily understand. Do you know what all the words you wrote mean?"

Henry pauses, reading. "I didn't know 'ka-lestial' but I guess it means stuff in the stars?"

Regina smiles. "Celestial," she says, pronouncing the word correctly, "and that's absolutely right. It's also used to mean something related to heaven."

"Like angels?"

"Yes, exactly. An angel could be called celestial. So, for your homework… How would you tell me about a supernova, if we were just talking?"

Henry thinks for a moment. "Okay, well, they're awesome! They're all these colours, all the stuff that was in the star explodes into different kinds of chemicals and the pictures are _so_ cool, but it's kind of sad when you know what it is because the explosion means the star is probably dying and the supernova only lasts for about 100 seconds. If it's big, it turns into a black hole, so just nothingness."

"That does sound sad. But nothing can last forever, I suppose."

Henry nods. "Sometimes they last. The ones that aren't black holes turn into neutron stars, and those ones are just very little stars that don't do very much and have lots of energy, but that's about it."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"I guess not, but… I mean, it was a supernova! It was the awesomest thing ever, don't you think it would be sad after, to just be a tiny neutron star?"

Regina ignores the voice in her head (her mother's) that says stars do not have feelings, and considers.

"I think some wonderful things are worth it, even if they don't last. And maybe if they did last, they wouldn't be so wonderful."

She wishes she could equate the image to something other than sex, but honestly everything about supernovas makes her think of Emma. She pushes all thoughts of the irritating (and irritatingly attractive) blonde from her mind - she'll have plenty of them when Emma comes to dinner later, she should make the most of the peace she has now.

Henry narrows his eyes at his homework. He begins to write another answer to the supernova question. He likes Regina's answers and sees the sense in them, but dying stars still make him sad. Perhaps it's surprising, after the first nine years of his life, that he still wants to be such an optimist, but he can't help it. He wants to believe in fairytales. And while a few months ago that seemed ridiculous, his life now suggests maybe he wasn't wrong. He's living with Regina Mills, _Regina Mills_ , and he has a house, a bed, good food… For the first time ever he's not failing school and someone is helping him with homework, actually sitting with him, talking about the answers, caring about what he writes. He almost wants to make mistakes, just so that she'll correct them.

"You look pensive, dear. May I ask what you're thinking about?"

Henry shrugs. "Just happy to be here," he says.

Regina doesn't push further and he likes her all the more for it. He knows bad things have happened to her, too. He gets the feeling she doesn't really know what a good family's like, either. But she's trying, and she's so much fun. And then there's Emma. Henry smiles at the thought of her. They're going to teach her how to cook later.

He finishes writing and Regina looks at the sheet.

"That's all, I think. Did Mulan ask you to do anything else?"

Henry shakes his head. "I could run my lines but I already know them… Maybe when Emma's here, then we can do all the good scenes?"

"That's a great idea."

Regina thinks at lightning speed. What should they do for the two hours until Emma arrives? It's Friday afternoon - what do children do on Friday afternoon?

"Is there anything you'd like to do now?" Regina asks once they've cleared away Henry's books.

Henry shrugs. "I don't mind."

Regina feels a little frustrated. She wishes he _would_ mind. She knows he does care, he just keeps it all to himself, hiding all his feelings and going along with whatever she decides.

"If you could do anything..?" she tries, but she knows it's not going to work and she doesn't want to pressure him. When he remains silent, she goes for honesty.

"Look, Henry, I… I would like very much for us to do something together but I'm really not sure what you would like to do. I had very little leisure time as a child so I can't draw on my own experiences and the internet can only suggest so much. Tomorrow I thought we could go to the science museum but right now there isn't time for a trip and I don't know what we can do, here, that would entertain you."

Henry almost takes her hand, she seems so worried. "Regina, I'm fine."

"Someone told me no one ever uses fine when they're really fine."

Henry smiles ruefully. "Was it Emma?"

Regina gives him a similar smile. "So."

"So, I… Well, I don't know either. At the group home I did lots of chores, I'm good at cleaning but your house is already _shining_."

"Henry, there is no need for you to clean here."

"I don't mind, if you had something… What do _you_ do for fun?"

Regina feels horribly guilty when she realises how on the spot even this question makes her feel.

"I… I read, sometimes I watch movies, I like to paint my nails. I admit, I spend a lot of time cleaning, too."

"We could do that. The nails thing."

Regina masks her surprise. "You want to do that, paint your nails?"

Henry shrugs. "I never have, but lots of people do."

"You might have to take it off for work."

"That's okay, you have stuff, don't you? That takes it off, I mean."

"I, uh, I do, yes."

Henry smiles. "Then let's do it."

Regina pauses, gives herself a shake, curses her mother yet again for instilling rules and prejudices that have no place in a kind heart, and takes Henry into the main room where she puts on the TV. She hands him the remote.

"See if you can find something funny," she suggests, figuring it might be easier for him to choose if he has a command.

Regina collects her nail kit from her bedroom and hurries downstairs, but pauses when she catches sight of herself in the mirror. She still has her reading glasses on from helping Henry with his homework, her hair is tousled, she's wearing jeans, _no shoes_ , and a baggy sweater, and there are the beginnings of a smile on her face that might actually be real.

"Who are you?" she whispers at the reflection, but all it can do is mimic her.

"Regina?"

Henry's in the doorway, waiting for her, and her smile spreads of its own accord.

"What?" he asks self consciously.

"I'm glad you're here," Regina says gently. They haven't touched since their midnight hug but they do feel a little closer. It makes sense that understanding each other is taking time, but Regina still wishes she knew him better.

"I'm glad I'm here too," Henry replies.

Regina wonders if he really wants to have his nails painted. She's read (she does too much reading) that foster children sometimes choose activities simply because they want to be close to another person. But as she opens the box and shows him the colours, he seems genuinely interested.

"Can we paint rainbows?" he asks, finding the correct seven colours. She's impressed that he knows them, she struggles to remember without a mnemonic.

"Sure," she says with a smile. "Who's first?"

She glances at the TV. He's chosen a rerun of _Full House_. Regina knows the show, but has always found it sad rather than funny. It reminds her of what she never had. She notices Henry is watching intently.

"Why did you choose this?" she asks.

"Don't you like it? I can change it," he says quickly.

"No," she says softly. "I just wondered why. Have you seen the show before?"

Henry shakes his head, focusing on the nail polish. "I heard the laughing, so I know it's funny," he says. Regina waits, biting her tongue. "And," Henry continues eventually, "it's about a family. I like things with families that aren't like normal ones."

Regina turns to the screen for a moment. "I know what you mean. I try not to feel regretful- Sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Telling me what?" Henry asks. "I know things happened to you. It's okay to talk about them."

"But not with you."

Henry puts down the nail polish. "Oh, okay." He sits very quietly. Regina curses herself inwardly. It's like walking on eggshells.

"No, I didn't mean… I want to talk to you, Henry, about anything you want. But you have enough burdens of your own without having to deal with mine."

Henry sighs, sounding decades older than his true age. "But what if I want to know?"

Regina takes a deep breath. She never expected to be broken down by a child. A therapist, maybe, in years to come, or that fantastical love interest that never really happens, but not a little boy.

"Okay. So," she gestures to the TV, "I like the show. I love the dynamic of it. But it makes me sad, too, because I never had anything like that as a child."

As she says it, the scene changes to a little girl playing dress up with one of her father figures, painting his nails. Henry grins.

"But you have it now," he points out. It's undeniable, and Regina has to laugh a little.

"Yes, I do. So, who's first?"

Henry seems far more at ease now that she's shared something of her own pain with him and she wonders just how much of her world view, especially in relation to children, comes from incorrect conditioning. It's scary to think that despite being certain that her mother's behaviour was wrong, she still follows and mimics her in so many ways. She wants Henry to be honest, to feel safe sharing his feelings, but how will he do that if she can't?

He gives her messy rainbow nails and she feels like a dirty, two faced liar because she's trying, she's trying as hard as she can to be a good parent to him but she's just as damaged and broken as she is and how can she help him through his pain if she can't even face her own?

They sit and watch more sitcom reruns as their nails dry and by the time they've put everything away the doorbell is ringing and Emma is here and Regina just wants to lock herself in the bathroom again because Henry seems happy, actually convincingly happy, he can't wait to see Emma, and Regina feels useless and irrelevant and fake in relation to Emma's raw, honest bravery.

She opens the door. Emma, with her halo of blonde hair and her lithe, gorgeous body and her shy, genuine smile. Emma, who's so wonderful Regina kind of hates her right now. Emma, who says hello so kindly and cheerfully that Regina can't hold back her snippy response. It's downright cold, and it's the only way she can manage not to burst into tears.

Emma frowns, wondering what she did. The kid's there so she can't ask now but as soon as he turns away she mouths,

"What's up?"

This only seems to anger Regina further. Emma wonders if she did something. Maybe Regina feels weird about the night before? But it went so well. Emma knows Regina's acting extends far beyond the screen, but there are some things you can't fake and last night involved a lot of them. And she shouldn't be embarrassed, they were both there… Emma smiles for the kid and follows Regina into the kitchen where the brunette makes several snide comments about Emma's cooking abilities (or lack thereof) and all Emma can do is be grateful they seem to have gone over Henry's head.

They make an Italian chicken dish and Henry talks about his school work. He's quite the orator once he gets going so it's a good half hour before Emma really needs to do anything but listen and learn about supernovas.

"Regina's really smart, though, isn't she? She helped me write my answers so they made sense to me instead of just copying."

Emma nods. "Yeah, she is," she says honestly. "So are you."

Henry laughs self deprecatingly. "At least I'm not failing any more. School might be fun when we finish the movie."

Emma nods. She never finished high school. Regina was probably prom queen. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She's been looking forward to this all day, why is it so… So awful! Regina's mad, Henry's moments from figuring out something's up, and she clearly missed the weird nails memo. The weird nails are actually adorable, but they make Emma feel disconnected, as if Regina and Henry are becoming a family without her. She's not jealous of either one of them, she just wants to be included and it's like she's missing out on the chance for a family all over again and making everyone, everyone mad and she's definitely not smart enough to help Henry with his astrology, no, wait, astronomy homework, especially because she doesn't even know what the word for it is! And how did it come to this anyway, locking herself in this perfect bathroom to look in the mirror at her pasty pale face and magnify her insecurities even further?

It was supposed to be sex, it was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be an amazing, groundbreaking job, helping out a kid, sneaking around and getting laid. It was not supposed to _hurt_. Emma's avoided pain since she possibly could but tonight, tonight is not avoiding pain. Tonight seems like _volunteering_ for pain and if it was just Regina, damn Regina, she'd walk out right now but the kid, the freaking kid is here and she has to stay and sit through dinner and make small talk (she _despises_ small talk) and eat pasta and make awkward jokes about ice cream until finally, finally it's bedtime and Henry goes upstairs and she doesn't have to pretend any more.

Damn, damn Regina for making her lie to him, for making her pretend in front of him when she swore she'd never do that to a child. Damn Regina for making everything difficult, for making it all so fucking complicated that she can't even come to dinner without tension you could cut with a chainsaw.

And damn Regina for standing there, _looking_ at her as she prepares her excuse for leaving. Damn Regina for those deep, dark, haunted eyes that pull Emma closer so instead of leaving she's coming back in- And then damn Regina for covering it up, for hiding her emotion so instead of holding her, comforting her, Emma has to stop.

"You're fucking impossible!" Emma yells (but under her breath so Henry doesn't hear).

And Regina knows what she's been doing, what she's still doing, but she also knows that if she stops she'll break, she'll break so completely and beautifully and entirely that there'll be nothing left at all.

"I…" she whispers, but there's nothing left. She can't pretend, not any more.

"What, you what?" Emma demands, but Regina has nothing to say, she just stands there in silence, wishing, praying, begging for the strength to tell the truth for once in her life.

Emma sees the pain, the agony, and her anger disappears. She sees the battle in Regina's eyes and can't blame her for hiding it. There's nothing she wants more than to take Regina in her arms and hold her, telling her everything is going to be okay.

Regina watches like a deer in the headlights as Emma raises her arm and emits a strangled cry, throwing herself out of the way at the last moment, cowering in a ball on the floor, shaking and sobbing like she hasn't since she was Henry's age.

Emma stands, frozen, her arm still poised to pull Regina into a hug. She lowers it, slowly.

"Regina-"

"Get out!" Regina manages.

Emma thinks faster than she's ever thought in her life. Her past, her own experiences, make it fairly obvious what just happened and she curses herself for not recognising the signs.

"Regina, I am not going to hurt you. I wanted to hug you," she says clearly, holding herself together.

Regina tries to breathe normally but she's still gasping for air and her chest feels like it might burst. Slowly, she calms herself with methods she learned in college. Before she's ready, probably, she forces herself to her feet.

"I apologise," she says. "I… I was somewhere else."

"Yeah, somewhere else where someone was beating on you!" Emma nearly shouts, angry not with Regina but with whatever asshole did this to her.

Regina smiles a little at Emma's brutal passion and wonders if the blonde is ever not clumsy. Probably not. But it's sweet. It makes her feel… Nice, to have someone be angry for her.

For Emma, it's strange. She's supposed to be hardened, she's supposed to be mad at Regina for being such a bitch tonight. But it makes so much sense it's impossible to be mad.

"You can go now," Regina says. "I'm fine- I'm good."

"Do you want me to go?"

Regina knows she has a choice. A month ago, hell, even yesterday, she would have said yes. But now… Now she has a child, and she gets the feeling she very nearly has something else too. She thinks, maybe, just maybe, she very nearly has a friend.

"No," she whispers.

Emma takes a step towards her.

"When you're feeling better, you're going to explain why you treated me like shit today, because that wasn't okay," Emma says. "But I want you to know, right now, that I forgive you, that I don't hold it against you, that I don't think you should feel guilty about it, and that I'm here for you, for whatever you need."

Regina's breath catches in her throat.

"Thank you," she says, so quietly Emma's not sure she didn't imagine it.

"Emma?" Regina asks softly.

"Yes?"

"I could really use that hug now."

It's the truest thing she's said all night and Emma has her wrapped in her arms in a second, because she might be impossible, but there's nothing Emma wants more than to help her, whatever the cost.

Nestled against Emma's chest, at first Regina feels small, but as Emma holds her, she feels as if she's growing, as if the warmth in Emma's heart is nourishing her own. Maybe it's silly, but in Emma's arms she doesn't feel weak. She feels as if trust, something she thought was weakness, might actually turn out to be strength.


	6. Chapter 6

As she holds Regina, Emma replays the last few minutes in her head and tries to make sense of them with any explanation other than the obvious.

Maybe Regina was in an accident. Maybe she had a tricky encounter with a fan. Maybe…

Maybe someone hit her. Maybe someone hit her, like someone used to hit Emma. Maybe her life is far, far, far from the perfect past Emma has imagined for her. Maybe she's human and broken and horribly hurt, maybe she's curled up against Emma's chest right now because she's moments from falling apart.

"Regina, have you…" Emma begins. She trails off, trying to think of better wording, but there's no good way to ask about things like this.

"Have you talked to someone, have you ever talked to anyone about this?"

Regina bites her lip, continuing to study the collar of Emma's blouse (a sheer, navy blue creation that's just on the edge of traditional and gorgeously flattering and beautiful).

"I… I learned some breathing techniques when I was in college. I used to get anxious a lot, about performances especially. I went to a class where they taught you how to breathe, how to calm yourself down."

Her voice sounds hollow, empty, as if the pain and fear ripping through her body have burned out everything else.

"That's good," Emma says. "And what about talking to someone about… Regina, you thought I was going to hit you."

There's a pause. Then,

"Emma?"

Regina moves a little and Emma leans to meet her eyes.

"Emma, can we… I want to talk about this. I do. But not now."

Emma nods with understanding. She knows it's not the right time. But her curiosity is burning, eating her up inside. What happened, what happened to this incredible woman to make her so hurt, so afraid?

"Are you okay now?" Emma asks.

Regina nods. "I… I think I should go to bed. Tomorrow I'm planning to take Henry to the science museum, I don't want to be tired."

She pulls out of Emma's embrace and puts several steps between them, because no matter how much she cares for Emma, no matter how kind, how sweet, how loving the blonde is towards her, Regina is still trembling with a fear that was years in the making.

"Do you… Should I leave?" Emma asks, feeling Regina draw back emotionally as well as physically.

"I… I don't know," Regina says honestly. "I do, I do want to apologise. I was unforgivably rude. I will completely understand if you don't want to repeat the experience, we can arrange for Henry to spend time with you when I am not present if you would like."

"Hey, Regina, I already said. I forgive you. We can talk about it when we talk about all the other crap. But," Emma softens her tone, "of course I still want to see you, spend time with you and stuff." _And have sex with you, of course. Not right now, but sometime soon._ Emma gives herself a shake. She's such a horn dog, it's disgusting!

Regina smirks, catching something about Emma's expression.

"How about… How about you come with us tomorrow?"

Emma's about to say yes, her mouth's open and everything, but then she thinks back to dinner, Henry talking about all kinds of crazy smart stuff, her not understanding a thing.

"I… Can I take a raincheck. I should probably work on learning my lines." It's not even a lie. She _should_. But any other day, any other plan, wouldn't she have gone? Emma bites the inside of a cheek. She and Regina have enough baggage to clog an airport and she is turning down what will probably be an amazing day because she barely made it through high school and she doesn't want Henry, or Regina, to realise what an ignoramus she is.

Regina hides the hurt. She expected Emma to say yes; it was an offer of a family day, all about Henry. Now, she doesn't really know what to say.

"Um, oh, well that's fine. Perhaps next weekend the three of us can do something. I know Henry enjoyed himself tonight, at least."

Emma sees Regina's pain.  
"No, I, I mean, I want to go. But the lines, you know. I really need to learn those."  
Regina looks at her feet. Emma doesn't need to lie to protect her. It doesn't help.

She murmurs something to this effect under her breath. Emma, apparently a creature with bat-like qualities, hears.

"Look, I… The science museum isn't my thing, okay?"

Regina looks at her. "Why didn't you say that to begin with?"  
"Because I didn't want you to ask me why."

Regina bites back the "Why?" that's on the tip of her tongue. Emma seemed interested enough in the conversation over dinner, despite the strained atmosphere; Regina wonders if she's simply not as interested in Henry as she first appeared. She vaguely remembers reading somewhere that Emma never wanted children; she knows better than to believe Hollywood gossip but she wonders if there's some truth to that. This line of thinking discourages her from asking Emma for an alternative. She chooses to accept the sub par excuse, though her heart feels heavier for it.

"Why don't we… I mean, if you and Henry want to, you could come to mine on Sunday, meet my dog, run our lines for next week, watch a movie neither of us are in…"

This time, Emma trails off because she's sure her suggestion will be met with refusal, but to her delight, Regina's previously sad eyes light up.

"I will ask Henry, but I think I can speak for both of us when I say we would love to."

"Awesome!" Emma says, giving away rather more of her happiness at the arrangement than she'd meant. Regina smiles, really smiles, and Emma wonders how deep the reciprocation of their feelings goes.

"So… We'll see you Sunday."

Emma nods. She knows it's time to go but here, still standing in the hallway, she wishes she had an excuse to stay a little longer.

"I, uh, can I use the restroom before I go?"

Regina ignores the awkwardness of Emma's tone and ascents, "although you hardly needed to ask, Miss Swan."

"Miss Swan, huh?" Emma asks over her shoulder, on the way to the bathroom.

"I think your question began the formality."  
They're at the bathroom door. Emma steps into the room. She and Regina are still making eye contact. Emma tries not to blush as she delivers her "line".

"You can stay if you like, but I'm about to take off my pants."  
Regina colours immediately; Emma feels slightly guilty for teasing her.

"Sorry, I… My thoughts ran away with me." She turns to leave, shaking her head at her stupidity.

"Hey, Regina?"

Emma smiles widely as she turns.

"I don't actually have to use the restroom. I just didn't want to leave."  
Regina follows her into the bathroom.

"How despicably sneaky," she says, biting her lip. Something about Emma's confidence, their lengthy, oddly awkward conversation, the small, enclosed room, replaces her earlier stress with an entirely different mood. Suddenly, she _definitely_ wants Emma to stay.

They smoulder. Emma smirks. Regina teases her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Didn't you say something about taking off your pants?" she purrs.

"Oh, that," Emma says almost absent mindedly, playing with the button on her jeans, feeling Regina's eyes track her fingers.

BREAK

Emma drives home an hour later feeling a lot less bad about turning down the museum. Regina might not know why she did it, but at least she knows it wasn't anything to do with not wanting to spend time with her.

She strolls into a deserted house and laments the lack of Ana - tonight she really will be cuddling _no one_. Emma's not the cuddling type, it's never been her, even in 'real' relationships, but something about Regina… Never mind. Only she does mind. A lot. And it's on her mind. Especially certain parts of it. Like Regina screaming out her name, Em-ma, making it sound exotic and delicious and alluring and- she does not need any more adjectives! She could swallow a thesaurus and she'd still be unable to describe what Regina does to her.

Her bed is cold and empty and she pops open a beer and imagines Regina going to an equally empty bed. She wonders why she's doing this to herself, why they're doing this to themselves. But when she thinks about Regina, cowering in a ball on the floor because of a raised arm, she knows, really, that there's no other option. Regina needs her. And she needs Regina to need her, she needs to do something right for once, something good for someone other than herself. It started with Henry, with helping him. And Regina is helping him beyond what Emma would even have dreamed of. Someone like that, someone who would do that for a child, who would make this movie, who would think of the science museum and buying books and _adoption_ , someone like that has to deserve someone to be there for them.

Emma is honoured to take that role - and let's face it, there's a lot in it for her. She smiles. There's a slight catch in her mind, a niggling seed of doubt, of discomfort at her concealing her insecurities from something which is, on the surface, an equal partnership. But Emma tells it sternly to butt out. She's been managing her insecurities for years. She is in control, she doesn't need help in the way Regina seems to. She will be just _fine_.

A voice, one that sounds a lot like Henry's, tells her that no one ever uses fine sincerely.

BREAK

Regina listens at Henry's door, wondering where the line is between good parenting and spying. She just wants to know if he's asleep! But the justification feels a little thin.

"Henry?" she murmurs.

There's no reply. She knocks gently on the door. No answer. Carefully, she pushes it open. He's lying in bed with his eyes closed, but there's something about the rise and fall of his chest that raises her suspicion. His breathing is loud, deliberate, and, there! His eyelids flicker. She knows he's awake.

"Henry, don't pretend, please."

He opens his eyes.

"Sorry. But I should be sleeping, I will, I promise."

Regina motions to the edge of the bed. "May I?"

Henry nods; she sits down and resists the temptation to take his hand, too.

"Henry, you do not have to apologise for being awake. A lot of people find it difficult to fall asleep. Have you been awake all this time?"

Henry sits up a little and bites his lip. "I… I didn't mean to be."

"It's not a problem, dear, but you didn't have to stay up in your room. It's still only ten, and it's a weekend. You could have come down and talked. I make a mean cup of cocoa, too."

Henry smiles at the idea of that, but only fleetingly. "I didn't want to disturb you. And I thought you and Emma might need to talk."

"So you picked up on that?" Regina's hardly surprised, really, but she wishes he didn't have to worry about her and Emma on top of everything else.

"I'm nine, not stupid," he tells her, though he looks guilty afterwards for the possible cheek detectable in his tone.

Regina tries to demonstrate with her expression that she's mildly amused, and doesn't mind at all if he shows a bit of character. She'd say it, but she thinks that would just concern him further.

"Did you, uh… You weren't listening, were you?"

Regina blushes at the idea of him hearing their 'talking'. Henry smiles, he can't help it. You learn a lot in foster homes, including when adults need to be left alone.

"I didn't hear anything. But is Emma your girlfriend now?"

It's an honest question, though perhaps more naive than he really is. Regina senses the possibility that he might be teasing her, though this unsettles her too - he's so young, he shouldn't know, she wants him to have a perfect idea of the world…

"Emma is my friend. My very close friend."

"Is she coming with us to the science museum tomorrow?"

Regina watches his face fall as she shakes her head. Guilt seeps through her. He was here, lying awake in the dark, while she and Emma were… She believes him that he didn't hear. The downstairs bathroom is a long way from his room, and they weren't _particularly_ loud. But still. She should have been there for him, she should have been making sure he was alright.

"Next time you can't sleep, please tell me, regardless of what I'm doing or what you think I might need."

He nods. Her tone brooks no refusal.

"Knock though. If I'm…" she blushes again. Henry laughs.

"You don't need to feel bad," he tells her. "Emma's _really_ pretty."

"I… Yes, she is."

It feels somewhat strange to be talking about this with a child, but she supposes it's in his interest to know what's going on in her love life, and he makes a very good point. Emma is stunning.

"You're even prettier, though."

Now she knows she loves him. "Thank you, Henry dear. You are astonishingly handsome yourself."

He grins, running a hand through his hair like a model.

"Do you _want_ Emma to be your girlfriend?" he asks.

Regina wonders, really, what she does want. The obvious answer is yes, of course. But she's pretty sure it's not as simple as that.

"I want us all to be happy, you, Emma, and me. If that means that one day Emma is my girlfriend, that sounds good to me."

Henry narrows his eyes at her in a way that's hauntingly familiar. Regina's eyes dart around the room looking for a subject change.

She sees his books, all neatly returned to the shelf, including the first Harry Potter.

"Is there anything that helps you fall asleep?" she asks him.

Henry shrugs.

Regina goes to the bookcase and removes the book.

"He didn't do it often, but once in a while my father would read to me. I used to find it very soothing. Do you like to be read to?"

"I don't know… No one's ever read to me before," Henry admits.

Regina hides her surprise. "Would you like me to read to you now?"

Henry tries to work out what could be in it for her. He comes up empty. Maybe she just likes the book. He nods, anyway. This is something he thought only happened in movies or his imagination. Regina is so kind to him, he wants… He kind of never wants her to leave. But she will, he reminds himself. Or more accurately, he will. He's never lived in the same place for more than a year, and that's not about to change just because he has a job. Lots of kids get jobs, it doesn't change their lives. And Regina might have mentioned adoption, but it's not the first time it's been brought up in his life, and it won't be the first time it falls through, either.

Still. One of the older kids told him, as they ate his portion of fries one dinner time, that in their lives, they had to take what they could get. So Henry might not get read to ever again, but there's no point worrying about that. He's here now, he's in the comfiest bed he's ever slept in (or lain awake in) and the fact that there is so much about this new life of his that could go wrong kind of has to mean that right now, a lot of it is going right.


End file.
